Maelstrom
by snickers3339
Summary: AU - Miley Stewart was taken away from her family and thrust into the role of a servant for a wealthy family. With this comes the tragic experiences of abuse, death, sorrow and love. MxO *Cowritten with MileyAddicted*
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything affiliated with the Walt Disney Company.

**Author's Note(s): HEY. I have _another _story. The background on this story... Let's just say I was never supposed to upload this. This was one of those stories that was never supposed to make it to the internet. I wrote this purely as an outlet for emotional stress and.. I guess I told a couple people and they wanted the plot of it... Well, the rest is history, as you can clearly see I've been convinced into posting it.. =_=**

**This started out as a dream, which I woke up from and I thought it would make a great story. :) So.. Some parts might take longer to write, because the finer details are being tuned as I write.**

**Again, I'm so, so sorry that I'm uploading another story. -_-' BLAME DREW (MileyAddicted) AND GIGI (Made of Ossum). :)  
**

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**Introduction**

He awoke with a start, a light sheen of sweat on his brow. A gasp escaped his mouth as he sat up straight, staring at the large, blank walls of his bedroom. He glanced at the cluttered desk by the corner, the pile of messy clothes in the hamper, and amount of pillows he had at the foot of his bed. His room was full, and yet, as often as he had this dream, he felt empty once again.

The clock flickered an ungodly hour, and he flopped back down, hands over his eyes. He dragged his hands up, pushing away the mess of floppy brown hair.

He had dreamed of a cascade of brown curls, locks soft beneath his fingers, and the sound of her soft sighs, as her head lay upon his chest.

It seemed like that dreamworld was much more desirable than this - He _knew _it was. He felt cold now, not warm like he had before. He sighed, sitting back up, and rubbing his eyes.

He decided to use the washroom since he was up anyway, and he had a pleasant surprise when the girl in question exited the bathroom just as he was about to open it. She looked up, saw him and her face bore a frightened, apprehensive look. He smiled, and if possible, she looked even more frightened, and ducked her head, hands playing at the sleeves of her old, torn t-shirt.

"I was just-- Goodnight, Ol-" She froze momentarily, eyes widening and darting to the ground realizing the error of her speech. "S-_sir_," she mumbled, inclining her head in some kind of jerky bow. Her eyes flickered to his apprehensively - Blue touching brown, light touching dark - and he inhaled sharply. She quickly darted to her room, and the door clicked gently.

He stared blankly at the now closed door.

His arms tingled, itching for the feel of her truly in his arms.

He decided that he didn't feel like using the washroom that much anymore, and sighed, simply going in and splashing his face. It was cold, refreshing, awakening.

He sighed, returning to his room quietly, taking in the grandeur of it. He sat at his desk - His desk facing the wall that faced _her _room.

He wondered, pondered - Whether the moonlight shone through the small window in her room, upon her face lightening up the paleness of skin, the contours, sharp and smooth. Would she be curled up? Pain, sorrow, or any other negative emotion etched on her face? Or maybe, she'd be smiling, dreaming of a place where nobody screamed. Where nobody cried. Where nobody dropped a droplet of blood.

He pressed a pencil down onto a blank paper, idly twirling, then dragging it across paper mindlessly.

_The moon stares down upon your face_

_As you enter into the deadly race._

_I can only wish to console you_

_To guide you through and through_

His pencil stopped moving.

When did he ever start feeling this way? When did he ever start getting _stomach aches _for a girl? He was a player, or so he thought. He didn't believe in settling down with one single girl. It was all about the fun of moving on from one girl to another.

Then what was so different about Miley?

There was something about the way she lacked confidence, but yet, when looked at him, he felt like he couldn't control the floodgate of emotions that came out. It made his hands, his feet, his head tingle. It made him.. Lighter, _happier._

He just wanted to _be _with her. What was wrong with that? He wanted to be able to wake up and know that the day would be a good day for the _both _of them.

_I can only hope to take away your pain_

_To journey to where all your sorrows are lain_

He felt a yawn escape his lips as his pencil slowed.

A few thoughts entered his mind, and he let his pencil do the last of the work as his eyes drooped closed on his desk.

In the next room, Miley yawned, groaned, and shifted, trying to sleep on her uncomfortable bed. Her eyes blinked sleepily at the wall her bed was pressed against in the cramped room. If you could call it that. It was like a large closet.

She bit her lip, tucking her hand under the thin mattress and pulling out a worn photo.

The caption on the bottom read _Stewart Family '96. _It showed her, as a rosy-cheeked baby, waving from her mother's arms, both smiling happily. Her father and brother, both of which she couldn't remember. It was a foggy memory, a page in the book of her life that she felt somebody had spilled ink on and blackened it into eternal darkness. She couldn't remember the last time she had been happy - She couldn't remember the last time she had even _felt _remotely loved at all.

Even though the death of her mother had been an accident, she felt as if her mother had.. _Abandoned _her in a sense. Miley, with bitterness, found it unfair that she had been brought out here - Forced out here - And now, she was living in some kind of - She glanced fearfully at the door - Twisted nightmare. Now, she had no family to love her - No mother to cradle her, no father to protect her, no brother to look up to.

_Alone._

She smiled a little, however, at the thought of _him._ He didn't seem to enjoy causing her grief as much, and she felt drawn to him every time. She suspected that she had always loved him - From the moment they met, but obviously at 4 years old, she couldn't do much about it. Maybe they were meant to be - Soulmates, destiny, fate - All trivial things to others, but since her life was already drained, she could only dream.

She yawned, sleep overtaking her, the subject of her dreams for the past few months, even years floated into her mind.

_Oliver._

Oliver yawned as well, smiling a little at the word he wrote on the page, glancing briefly up at the wall that separated him. His heart ached a little.

_Miley._

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_You like? You hate? Oh my God, you HATED IT DIDN'T YOU?!_

_To stop me from freaking out, how about leaving a nice review? :)_


	2. Back to the Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything affiliated with the Walt Disney Company.

**Author's Note(s): okay. so here is the actual beginning of the story. We're going back in time now. =] This is a DREAM, FYI. Just so you know. :D  
**

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**Chapter 1: Back to the Beginning**

**(dream sequence; flashback)  
**

_14 years ago_

"Where's my little birthday girl?"

Three year old Miley Stewart giggled, crawling around the couch quickly, before putting her fist against her mouth, listening for sounds of her father's approach.

"I'm gonna get you!"

Miley giggled, eyes widening comically as she realised she could be heard.

A loud shriek left her lips as her father's large hands wrapped around her middle, lifting her up and swinging her around.

"Daddy!" she squealed happily. "Down!"

Robbie Ray laughed, hugging his daughter affectionately. "Not until you say the magic word, baby girl."

A mischievous smile forced its way across her mouth. "No. I dun't hafta. It's my birthday!"

"Well then, prepare for.. THE TICKLE MONSTER!" He flurried his fingers across her stomach, poking her, making her laugh and squeal with delight.

"DADDY!"

"Magic word?"

"PWEASE!"

"Good girl," he said, kissing her forehead. "Now run along and play with your brother for a moment. I have to check on your mommy."

"Is mommy okay?" she asked, ever the intuitive child.

"She's just tired."

"Mommy don't play with Miwey and Jackson no more," she pouted, crossing her arms.

Robbie Ray laughed, tousling his daughter's hair. "She's just... tired," he repeated, trying to think of what to say.

"I can make her feel better!"

"Of course you can. Now, go play."

Miley toddled off, in search of her brother.

"Jackson!"

"What, Miles?"

"Daddy says to pway with you," she chirped happily, sitting beside her brother who was stretched out in front of a race car track.

"I don't want to play with you."

"Jackson!"

"Miley!" he mimicked, focus on racing the car around.

"Fine!" She stomped off, three-year old pout on her face.

Meanwhile, Robbie Ray was sitting on the bed he shared with his wife, trying to persuade her to come downstairs.

"Honey, it's Miley's birthday today. I think you should at least wish her happy birthday."

"Mmph."

"You know," he started angrily. "You haven't paid much attention to her since she was born, an' I think it's time you started acting like a mother towards her."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"I don't know what's wrong with you. Do you not love her or something? Because I've got news for you. She loves you very much, and maybe it's time to return the gesture."

"I'm not in the mood, Robbie Ray."

The bed creaked as he stood up. "Her party starts in about half an hour. Please," he said softly. "I wish you would be there."

The door closed quietly as he left.

--

Miley clapped her hands happily, as the cake was placed in front of her. The other kids scrambled to sit beside her, all wanting a better look at the delicious treat and attempting to stick their fingers in to get a taste.

She smiled adoringly at her father. "Thank you daddy." Her smile faltered a little, as her eyes widened innocently, her head tilting to one side. "But.. Where's mommy?"

Robbie Ray shared a knowing look with Mamaw, before smiling and shaking his head at his daughter. "She's tired, remember, Miles?"

A child's attention could only be held for so long and soon Miley was laughing, surrounded by many other children all covered with cake.

"Okay," Robbie Ray said, holding up the camera, laughing. "Next time wait until we sing Happy Birthday and until I get the camera _on _before y'all dive into that cake."

Mamaw twirled Miley around. "How old are you today Smiley Miley?"

Miley counted on her fingers, frowning. "THWEE," she said loudly, holding up three fingers. "Miwey's _thwee _today," she repeated proudly.

Mamaw pretended to gasp. "You're such a big girl!"

"Thank you, Mamaw!"

"Aw, I love you baby girl. Happy Birthday, okay?"

She ruffled Miley's brown curls before setting her back on the ground so that she could mingle with her friends.

Jackson smirked playfully, holding up his fingers all covered in cake, inching towards Miley threateningly. She let out a high-pitched shriek, and soon a cake war of sorts ensued.

Adults scrambled to fix the situation, holding back the now quite hyper children.

"The cake is supposed to go down yer mouths!" Robbie Ray groaned at the chaos. "Jackson! Don't do that to your sister!"

"But _daaaddy_!"

--

Robbie Ray smiled, looking at the pictures he took. Too bad the picture of Miley and Jackson hugging had to be ruined with the cake splattered across their faces.

Speaking of his two children... They came bounding down the stairs, all ready for bed, Miley clutching Beary Bear and Jackson still sporting a bit of cake on his face.

"Daddy, tuck us in, please?" Jackson asked.

"Of course, son." Miley yawned sleepily, holding out her arms. He stooped down picking her up and carrying her up the stairs. "Tired there, bud?"

She nodded, sighing softly. "Miwey sweepy."

"Miley sleepy?" he repeated, patting her back. She nodded once more. "You had fun?"

"Yes daddy."

"Okay." He set her down. "I'm going to say goodnight to your brother first, okay? Go wait."

"Okay."

Robbie Ray walked into his son's messy bedroom, stepping on a couple toys. "Boy, how do you find your way out of this room?"

"I just do," Jackson said cheekily, smiling up at his father. "Goodnight daddy."

"Goodnight, Jackson. Love you." He pulled the covers, tucking it around him. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight dad."

Robbie Ray tread around the toys and flicked off the light.

He walked down the hall, to Miley's room, and noted that it was much neater. Then again, she was three and didn't find much use in too many things.

"Hey bud," he said softly, sitting at the edge of her bed. "How are you? Did you have fun?"

"I had fun, daddy," she said, eyes drooping. "I'm sweepy."

"Okay, Miley." He kissed her forehead. "I love you, baby girl. I hope you had a good birthday."

"I did..." she trailed off. "Daddy," she asked suddenly, her small hand grabbing his. "Where was mommy?"

"Miley... You know mommy's.. She's not feeling well... I'm sorry that she missed your birthday. She'll make it up to you, okay, bud?"

Her lower lip trembled. "She still wuvs me, right?"

He felt his heart sink, as he hugged his daughter. "She does love you," he said, even though a small part of his mind doubted that. "She _does,_" he said more to himself than her. "Don't cry, okay?" He kissed her forehead again. "Today is your birthday. You're a big girl now." He rocked her back and forth gently. "Big girls don't cry."

"I'm a big girl," she repeated, leaning into him. "I won't cwy."

He tucked the covers around her small frame, pushing away the messy strands of hair. "Goodnight, bud. I love you. See you tomorrow."

"I love you daddy."

Robbie Ray turned off the light, shutting the door quietly, and walking back to his own bedroom.

He walked in to find his wife sleeping soundly in bed and frowned. He walked up to the bed and sat on it, moving her shoulder a little.

"Susan, wake up. I'd like to talk with you."

"What is it?"

"Where were you?"

"What are you talking about, Robbie Ray? I'm right here."

"No, actually, you're not. You-- You're not _here _anymore. You weren't there for Miley's birthday, for cryin' out loud!"

"Miley - Miley, _MILEY._ It's always about her--"

"She is your _daughter._"

"I'm just so.. _tired--_"

"--Of what? Her? What did she do to you that was so bad?! She's _three._ She's not even old enough to multiply or divide. _She thinks you don't love her._"

Susan sighed. Robbie Ray's eyes widened.

"Oh God-- You _don't_--?"

"I didn't say that."

"I don't know what's been up with you lately - I don't _understand _why.. Or what's so different about when Jackson was born and when Miley was born. All I know is that the woman I married would not treat her own daughter like that. I married a woman who believed in good family values -- And to--"

"--Must we talk about this now?"

"If we don't talk now, when are we going to talk about it? Never?!" He put his hand on her shoulder gently. "At least tell me what's wrong.. We can work through it, and everything will fall back into place."

"I just c-can't-- God, I don't know what's wrong... Everything just..." She trailed off, burying her head into the pillow. "I want to be alone."

"Susan--"

"--Please. Just-- I want to be _alone_."

He sighed, getting up, realising his attempts were pretty much futile.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight," he said softly, before closing the door to the bedroom.

She sighed, falling back into a restless slumber.

--

A few hours later, it was quite dark outside, the only light being provided by the brightness of the moon. Susan Stewart awoke, feeling a strange sense of restlessness within her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, peering out the window. She could see the vast land, that seemed to stretch on and on and _on..._

Tennessee was beautiful. She had grown up here, and now she was living here. She had lived here her whole life. _Home._

She felt an impulse - A need for change. A strong _need._ It seemed like it would be the answer to her troubles and problems. It was something she didn't quite understand. She sighed, rubbing her eyes again, trying to get the sleep out of her system.

She sat for a little while, thinking. She fingered the bedspread, fiddling with a loose string. Anxiety ran through her, unnerving her as it had done for the past three years since Miley was born. The stress of having two kids - Two children, running around screaming.. And having to take care of them. It was killing her. She just couldn't do it anymore. She felt like she had failed her own children as a mother - Not being able to take care of them, even though she wished she could. The stress just built up.. and _up.. _Her husband wouldn't understand.

A tingle of panic rose within her. She felt constricted and trapped. She wanted to scream, to escape - But it felt like she was trapped in a box, stuck and unable to move. She wanted _out _and she wanted it _now._

She slipped out of bed, moving to stand by the open window. A strong, crisp breeze flew in, ruffling her shirt and hair. She stared out at the various things She opened the closet door, extracting a rather large suitcase. She threw in clothes haphazardly, threw in toiletries. She looked around, grabbing a spare blanket off the shelf. Into the suitcase it went as well. It was rather full now, but she found that there was some extra space.

She looked around. As much as she wanted to leave everything behind, she had to take more with her. She noticed a few family photos on the bedside table. She removed them from their frames, slipping them into a smaller pocket.

"No more," she mumbled to herself. She carefully hoisted the suitcase up so that it wouldn't roll and make noise.

She tiptoed past Jackson's room, then Miley's room, to which she noted the door was ajar. Miley probably had gotten up to use the washroom. She never closed her door.

She peered in, seeing Miley's face illuminated by a nightlight. She had Beary Bear pressed so tightly against her that it was like they were one. A small, sad smile graced her lips as she made to continue onwards, to go down the stairs.

She paused.

She looked back into the room.

_As much as she wanted to leave everything behind, she had to take more with her._

"Should I?" she whispered to herself. It would be easy. Easy to convince a 4 year old that her mother was merely looking to spend time with her.

A last-minute decision was made - She walked into the room, carrying the suitcase. She grabbed a few of Miley's clothes off their hangers, trying not to cause too much racket.

Apparently she did anyway, because Miley stirred, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"Mommy?"

"H-hi Miley--"

"Whatchu doin'?" Miley peered at her through the darkness. "Why is mommy going thwough my cwothes?"

She moved to sit next to her daughter, stroking her hair. "How would you like to go somewhere with mommy?"

Miley's face brightened in the dark. "Where?!" she asked excitedly, her voice rising.

"Shh. Shh.. You have to be quiet sweetie. Nobody can know."

"You an' me?" Miley asked, lowering her voice and widening her eyes.

"Yes, you and me.." She thought about what to say. "It'll be like an adventure."

"An _adventure_!" she whispered excitedly, clapping her hands. "Okay! I wan' to go!"

"Okay. I'm gonna pack some things for you, okay?"

"Okay, mommy."

Susan picked out a few more articles of clothing, stuffing them in.

"You taking Beary with you?"

Miley nodded, hugging the teddy bear to herself. "Beawy go with me."

"Okay, come on.. Put on your sweater."

Miley slipped her small arms through the sleeves of the fleece sweater her mother was holding for her.

"Where are we going?" Miley asked again.

"Somewhere fun. It'll be a surprise." She took Miley's smaller hand into her own and held it. "Trust me?"

"I twust you."

"Okay. Let's go."

Miley jumped off the bed with thump. "Shh, we have to quiet, remember, Miley?"

Miley clapped her hand over her mouth, nodding with wide eyes. She put her finger to her lips. "Shhh," she imitated.

They tiptoed down the stairs, then quietly maneuvered around the house. The passed by the couch in the living room, both jumping slightly as Robbie Ray let out a rather loud snore and mumbled incoherent words. Miley looked at her mother, her finger still pressed against her mouth. They snuck out the front door, closing the door as quietly as possible. Susan quickly put the suitcase into the trunk of the car, and opened the back door, helping Miley into her child car seat.

Miley swung her legs happily as her mother buckled her in. Miley clutched Beary tightly as her mom shut the door swiftly. Susan tossed her purse into the passenger seat, sticking the key into the ignition with fumbling hands.

She turned, offering her daughter a small smile. "Ready?"

Miley nodded brightly, now completely awake.

"Yep."

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_:/ uhm. yeah. I hope it was good. Please review? :)_

_PS. Isn't Little Miley SO cute? xD_


	3. The Life of a Servant

**Disclaimer: We do not claim to own anything Disney affiliated.**

**T's A/N: Well, guess what guys? I have a new cowriter. :) He was previously my '_consultant_', but now he's my _co-writer_. HOW COOL IS THAT?! ( http://fanfiction .net/~MileyAddicted/ *remember to take out the space*) yes. pretty cool. Drew's an AMAZING writer, and this is our very first chapter we've written together. :D **

**A note:**

**-We're going to present now. The last chapter was a dream/memory/flashback. :D Sorry if I confused anybody. :) Yeah, so now, Miley's 17 and currently living with the Okens who are this rich, upper-class family living in sunny California. I don't want to give too much away. Here's the chapter! :)**

**Hope you like it! :)**

**PS. tysomuch for the reviews! :D  
**

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_"If you are going through hell, keep going." - Sir Winston Churchill_

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**Chapter 2: The Life of a Servant  
**

17-year-old Miley Stewart awoke with a jolt, soft breaths leaving her lips as she stared at the cracked, white walls of her room. If it could even be called that. It was more like an oversized closet with a little cot bed stuffed in a corner. She shivered, feeling the cold temperature of the room as well. She hugged the thin blanket of the cot to herself, trying to keep herself warm.

She yawned, checking the cheap plastic clock on her bedside, seeing that it was 5:50 AM. She sighed, falling back down onto her pillow. She played with the frayed strings of her blanket before yawning once more and kicking her legs over the side of the bed.

10 minutes before she actually had to get up and start working.

She sighed softly once more, lifting her wrist to the light of her window, examining a burn on her arm. It didn't hurt.

Not too much, anyway.

Over the years, she had grown accustomed to the pain she learned to expect for every single little mistake she made. She tried her best to ensure that everything was perfect, but usually nothing ever was. That explained the bruises that never seemed to go away, and the tears that never seemed to stop flowing until her tear ducts hurt.

She sighed thinking back to the terrifyingly realistic dream she had and hesitantly pulled out a faded photograph from beneath her cot. She stared at the Polaroid for a moment, memories rushing at her. Her mother had taken this before she passed away, and while it was her last living memory, she couldn't help but despise it sometimes.

Miley's lower lip trembled before she ground her teeth and angrily slammed the picture down, nails scraping the back of it.

"Mistake," she whispered quietly. "Big. Mistake." A wave of contempt passed through her. "Thanks," she hissed, eyes narrowing at the down turned frame.

The alarm then promptly went off. Her eye twitched and suddenly her fist was aching and the clock was crushed.

She sighed, rubbing the bottom of her fist before shaking it off and turning away regretfully. She would regret that later. She knew it.

She stuck a hand between her bed sheets, pulling out her last pair of clean underwear and pulling them on. She adjusted her sole shirt on her shoulders hoping that they would go out tonight so she could do her own laundry without attracting their attention. The hem of the shirt reached just above her knees, and it was practically falling off her shoulders. She grunted in annoyance, grabbing the worn out hair tie on her bedside, pulling a handful of the shirt together at the base of her neck so it would be more fitting.

She sighed, turning back her bedside, hurriedly picking up the photo and putting it up straight, looking at it forlornly.

"I love you," she mumbled begrudgingly, before tucking it under her cot once more, tucking the sheets around it..

As she ascended the stairs from the basement, she nibbled at her thumb trying not to make a sound. She tiptoed into the kitchen, shutting the doors so she could make more noise, and proceeded to make some eggs and toast for the morning's breakfast.

"Eggs," she whispered, carrying the carton to the stove. "Pan." She opened the drawer, pulling one out. "Heat." It was all basically routine for her now - She had learned the schedule: Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays, she had to cook eggs, make toast, coffee, and tea. On Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, she had to make waffles, or pancakes along with freshly sliced fruits and juice. She had learned the skills of the trade from her mother, and she tried her best to remember the routines. She was grateful that she was free for lunch and dinner most of the time.

The glass door slid open and she stiffened, bracing herself for some sort of screaming, yelling or beating (_again_). Instead, the footsteps slid across to the kitchen table and the chair scraped. She turned hesitantly, mumbling a small, "Good morning sir," to Oliver Oken who barely acknowledged her presence.

She fumbled with the spatula when he suddenly made eye contact with her, accidentally dropping it on her foot.

"Oh!" she cried sharply, lifting her foot up, shaking it out. She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she felt his eyes on her back.

She quickly rinsed off the spatula, hobbling back to the stove and turning it off before she burned the eggs.

Grabbing plates from the cupboards, she quickly made her away over to the kitchen table, placing three plates, along with forks.

She felt unfocused and dizzy from the pain shooting from her foot straight to her brain, and she nervously fumbled with the pan.

The door slid open again, and she heard _his_ briefcase drop to the floor. His shoes clicked across the kitchen, coming to a stop behind her. She could feel his peppermint breath on her ear. She automatically sucked in a breath, trying to make herself as thin as possible. She turned around as slow as possible, keeping her eyes trained on the shiny black shoes pointing towards her own. She took a small step back, swallowing and looking up into narrowed brown eyes. Dark brown hair, cut short and gelled back a little, with a square jaw that was locked in place and thin lips that curled into a nasty smirk; there was always something intimidating.

A memory flashed through her mind and her throat closed up. She wanted to scream as his smirk widened, a flash of something going through his eyes. It suddenly seemed colder, and she tried ignoring it, turning back around and picking up the pan.

"You're supposed to have breakfast ready by now," John Casey Oken said, his voice barely above a menacing whisper. She sighed, thanking God that at least he would be away for the majority of the week due to a serious case he had to work on.

She tried not to shiver as he passed by her, his hand and gun holster grazing her lower back before he slid into his seat.

"It better be good, considering you took longer than usual to make it."

"I'm sorry," she breathed, inclining her head a little, trying to avoid eye contact. "_Sir_," she added, before he could say anything.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Miley froze in fear, before looking briefly in his eyes. She saw his dark stare, feeling the sudden urge to blink. She tried with all her might not to, afraid that he'd reprimand her again. "Yes sir. Sorry sir," she said in apology. She took a side-glance embarrassingly at Oliver, who was present during the entire exchange.

She quickly went to grab the toast, distributing it around. Oliver grunted upon receiving his in some form of "Thank you", while his father gave no acknowledgment. She looked down as she returned to the stove, taking the pan to the sink to wash it.

This was her life.

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**D's A/N: Hi guys! Drew here. Theresa _might _have mentioned me up there. Haha, I'm super excited to write this with her! You all know she's an awesomelicious writer. :D Anyway, leave us some reviews, eh? It's a nice thing to do, and I'm sure y'all are nice people. :)**

**Poor Miley. :(**


	4. She Fantasize 'Bout Gettin' With Me

**Disclaimer: Haha, Disney owns Oliver. I don't. Though maybe Theresa would like to. xD**

**Hi guys! Drew here. Theresa & I are having so much fun writing this. This chapter's an insight into Oliver's life. Ahem. We "slightly" changed him up though. Um. Yeah. Theresa ridiculed me a lot for writing some of the parts of this. o_o **

**Enjoy!**

**And Happy Birthday to GiGi! [check her out at ~MadeOfOssum].**

* * *

_Shawty, let me holla at you, you so __hot, hot, hot, **hot**  
You think I'd be hollen', if you not, not, not, not?  
I'm **king** of the town, you can take a look around_

Kiss Kiss ~ Chris Brown

* * *

**Chapter 3 : _She Fantasize 'Bout Gettin' With Me_**

Oliver Oken shut off the engine of his car and removed his sunglasses. He sat in it for a second, then took out the keys and stepped out, sunglasses in hand, school carry-bag strapped around his shoulder. He looked up at the majestic private school before him, feeling a sense of triumph. He locked his car, noticing a small group of girls staring at it. It was a silver Porsche sports car, and it shone magnificently in the morning sun. Oliver was particularly fond of shining it frequently, so it stood out and looked constantly new.

Not that it didn't already. Oliver came from one of the wealthier families, and he could have almost anything he wanted. Like any of those girls staring at his car. It was the benefits of having money and being one of the hottest, most popular guys in school. Oliver was entitled to buy luxuries, and the girls just came for that. He had been with many of them from the school at some time or other, but none of them were with him now – nor did any of them really have a steady relationship with him.

Making his way through the school, he greeted a few of his friends, before finding his locker. His current girlfriend was already waiting there for him. Lilly had been with him for three days now – the past weekend, though not all it was crystal clear and easy to remember in their heads, thanks to a few drinks and late nights. In any case, she was just another girl in his constant cycle, and he knew he would move on from her soon enough. She wasn't that great, anyway. But for now, he would enjoy his time with her until he dumped her.

"Hey, sexy," he smiled. She was indeed, quite sexy. Her long blonde hair was curled, flowing off her back, and she was wearing the typical school uniform of the school: white top, navy blue jacket, and a black plaid skirt, hitched a bit higher than allowed, exposing more of her legs. Most of the girls wore their skirts like that, and Oliver was used to seeing it – especially around him. They flocked to him, going in and out of his life, day after day. He stayed with them, slept with them, and then dumped them. He had that reputation too. The girls that had already been with him gossiped about how _good_ he was.

"Hi Oliver," she replied. They kissed, his hand sliding over her back, going further down…

"Yo Oken!" A tall, good-looking guy called at him, dressed in a yellow shirt and red tie – the mandatory uniform for males. Oliver held onto the kiss for a second more, before turning to Josh, a fellow junior.

"Oh, hey Josh. What up?"

"What the hell happened to Jennifer, bro?" Josh replied, staring pointedly at Lilly, who was clinging onto Oliver tightly, their bodies touching, playing with his hair.

"Dumped her Friday night. Ran into Lilly here," Oliver grinned, giving Lilly another kiss. That would always be his favourite activity - Making out, and that remained true for each girl he had dated.

"Dude, you and Jen lasted only three days!"

"Yeah, too bad, huh? We couldn't make the weekend. But she was bad, man. Not even a 3," he said, his voice dropping a little, throwing Josh a mock-disappointed look.

Three out of ten, that was. In bed. Oliver and his best friends had a rating system for all the girls in school. Oliver usually got the "best" girls first, before they got passed onto his friends after he dumped them. But Oliver couldn't even sustain relationships with "tens" – he became bored easily of being with a girl for too long and he needed change and a new experience.

"Dang, she's hot though." Josh seemed interested, searching the cafeteria for the girl in question.

"Well, go for her if you want. Don't say I didn't warn you, J." Oliver told him, opening his locker with a simple bang.

Lilly leant into Oliver even closer, whispering in his ear, "What numberr am I, Olivvverrr?" She dragged out his name, trying to make it sound seductive.

"You…" he kissed her, "are…" his right hand slid up beneath her shirt, "a…" he squeezed her, eliciting a small scream from her.

"MR. OKEN!" barked a sharp, grating voice.

Oliver's hand disappeared and went behind his back in a flash, turning his attention to the teacher before him, looking as innocent as he possibly could.

"Sir."

"Tuck in your shirt, Mr. Oken. Let this be the last time I remind you." He gave him a stern look, and then eyed Lilly, who was innocently leaning by the locker, her hands intertwined together.

Oliver tucked in his shirt, watched the teacher turn the corner in the hall, then un-tucked it again, smoothing it out over his pants. Smirking, he ruffled his shaggy hair, (to the delight and amusement of several girls close by), gathered several items from his locker, and shut it. He turned to Lilly, pinning her up against the lockers, delivering a quick, heated kiss before pulling away and smirking at her.

"Later, babe."

He heard a faint "Bye," before he turned the corner going to his first class of the day. He slipped into class, sitting in his usual spot at the back of the classroom, in a desk right in the center-- He had a reason for that.

"One, two," he mumbled, glancing at his watch.

And right on cue, a gaggle of girls walked into the classroom, all brushing past him, walking down the aisles. He smiled happily, taking advantage of his view to scan their bodies up and down, eyes lingering on their legs and hips.

A few guys slipped into class, all pounding their fists with Oliver as some of them went to the front, and some of them hanging in the back with him. He propped his feet up on the desk, casually using his sleeve to brush away an imaginary speck of dust from his recently shined shoes.

The bell rang and right on cue, his English teacher walked in, hitting his pointer on Oliver's desk. "Feet off the table, Oken. I don't know how many times I have to tell you."

"Always one more time, Sir," Oliver called out cheerfully, leaning back casually in his chair, winking at a random girl who had turned around to glance at him. He took mental note that she was new and that he most definitely hadn't dated her yet.

He sighed, putting his chair back in place and flipping his hair a little once more, trying to focus on what was being taught.

It wasn't ten minutes before he got bored, and his attention diverted to the girls in the class, eyes resting on a different girl every few seconds.

_Did her, did her… she was bad… did her… lots of times…. Yep, her too… ooh, her. Loved__ her_, he thought to himself, smiling.

"Mr Oken, would you like to share your thoughts with the class on your apparent amusement in Miss Celina? " The teacher snapped him out of his thoughts, catching him with a wide smile and eyes pointed toward an average-sized, dark-haired girl.

A chorus of giggles resounded in the class among the girls, and Celina herself shrank into her chair, mortified.

There was a silence as Oliver contemplated what to say. He grinned, and the teacher automatically narrowed his eyes, knowing that it would be a very snarky/sarcastic/confusing/disrespectful comment.

"She's a _nine_, sir," Oliver said happily, causing an explosion of laughter from the guys and some of the girls. Most of them knew what that meant by now – Oliver was commonly the center of gossip between the girls. Celina burned with embarrassment, learning her "number" for the first time.

The teacher narrowed his eyes, giving up on trying to understand the laughter. "Out, Oken, " he pointed Oliver at the door. Oliver gladly obliged, gathering his bag, walking to the front of the classroom, but not before his hand brushed the side of a pretty blonde who he passed.

"If only you knew what these girls were capable of," he whispered to himself, making sure the teacher heard him, but not loud enough for him to make out all the words.

"_OUT, _Oken!"

"Yessir." Smirking and satisfied, Oliver exited, walked out into the hall, took out his phone and sent out a quick text. He took a detour to his locker, and shoved his book bag into it. He closed it, and was immediately shoved against it, a flash of blonde curls attacking him.

"Heyy Oliver," Lilly said in a singsong voice, kissing and pushing him against the lockers with her own body. He gladly accepted, letting his arms encircle around her waist.

"We got a loong time today, babe," he told her, kissing her back before letting go quickly, not wanting to get caught. They ran out of the school and into the backseat of his car and his hands were immediately in action once inside it.

"A long time is _never_ enough," she whispered into his ear.

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**T's A/N: I'm in love with this Oliver. :D :D :D Picture him with the new Mitchel haircut and just... woww. o_o**

**haha. aren't you proud of Drew for writing this with me? he's awesome. :P**

**anyway. just a note: Lilly isn't gonna be a recurring character or anything. :) She's just Oliver's latest 'girlfriend' and yeahh... you won't really see her again after this. xD  
**

**So, um, you could review or something? ty for the reviews last chapter. :)**

**AND THIS CHAPTER WAS DEDICATED TO GIGI FOR HER _birthday! _( ~MadeofOssum ) You rock. :D  
**


	5. Before The Storm

**Disclaimer: We do not claim to own anything Disney affiliated.**

**A/N: :) Theresa hereeee! **

**Thanks for all the reviews last chapter! but not to nag or anything.. but.. -whistle- _7_? _really_? there are 20+ alerts on this story, and we get seven reviews. that's only 35%! not even half. :) just saying... _anyway_. I know people hate it when authors push for reviews & I apologise, but feedback is seriously strongly appreciated.**

**PS. I love 'Before the Storm' as a title, don't you? It's my favourite song. :P**

**REVIEW PLEASE. :) I wouldn't mind hitting at _least_ 10 reviews this time. ;D**

**PPS. Happy back to school!!! Tomorrow's my first day of school. Grade 10, babyyy! :) ;D  
**

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**Chapter 4**_**:  
Before the Storm**_

Miley carefully put the plates back into the cupboard, ensuring that everything was neat and tidy. She smiled a little, proud of her work, and shut the dishwasher, rubbing her hands on the washcloth. She strode into the living room, picking up the Swiffer mop she had left there.

She slid it around idly, already bored of her work, but content that at least she was alone and she was free to do whatever she wanted. She pushed the mop all the way to the laundry room, glancing around quickly. The walls seemed to mock her, taunting her; Her daily routine had remained the same for as long as she could remember, and she itched for something different.

She sighed, hanging the mop up on its desired hook and stretching her hands, looking out the small window of the room. The sun was shining brightly outside, its rays seeping slightly into the room. It was an incredibly large room, even for a laundry room. It was equipped with a variety of mops, two pairs of washers and dryers, laundry baskets for each of Oliver, his mother, and John.

She suddenly shivered, hugging herself, and glancing up at the clock on the wall. It was plated with roman numerals, and it told her that it was just past noon. They wouldn't be back for at least six hours – or at least, he wouldn't be. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she stiffened, bracing herself on the cool metal of the washer.

Hoping that it was going to be one of his longer work days, she convinced herself to block the thoughts out of her mind and she walked to the dryer, tapping her fingers on it in a steady beat. Sure, why not, she thought to herself.

She made her way down to her room and gathered her sheets and retrieved her dirty underwear. Rolling it all into a ball, she returned back into the laundry room, dumped the ball into one of the washers, and poured in some detergent. She started the water, and watched as the water flowed in and wet the small pile. She sniffed the collar of her over sized white t-shirt, and decided it deserved some washing too. Aside from the dirtiness, too many bad things had happened to her since she had last washed it, and washing it let her forget and release those emotional and stressful memories. She lifted it from her shoulders slowly, being careful not to touch any of the bruises all around her body. Blood pounded in her ears as she imagined what on earth would happen if somebody were to catch her now--

She only had underwear on now, and suddenly the laundry room felt a bit chilly. She closed the washer shut, reminding herself that she needed to come back right away once it finished to dry her clothes. She stared at the washer for a brief moment before walking out of the laundry room, shutting the door behind her.

A rebellious edge seeped through her, as it always did when she was free to do as she pleased.

She strode upstairs to the master bedroom, where John and his wife slept. She slipped on one of Nancy's robes, feeling instant comfort and warmth despite its largeness on her slimmer frame. She made her way to a 6-foot high mirror stuck to the opposite wall, and looked at her reflection. She wasn't allowed to be wearing the robe, obviously, but since they were out of the house, they wouldn't know that she did as long as she tidied up after herself. And with years of experience doing that, she knew how to clean and be tidy by now. She tried to smile and force happiness into her face, but her lips curved downwards once more as she realized that happiness seemed like a long-forgotten memory.

Her reflection was one that she rather not look at. While her face was relatively scar and bruise free, she hated that haunted look that marred her features, and the desolate look in her eyes. She shuddered as the thought of the bruises beneath the robe reminded her of her terrible state and how they got there. She instinctively stared at the clock again; only a half hour had passed. She slid off one side of the robe, examining a recent bruise on her upper chest, below her neck. She slid her fingers across it, and instantly felt a twinge pain on it. Wincing, she moved her fingers further down, sliding down the waistband of her underwear a little, and found another bruise on her hips, once she knew was there – it stopped her from sleeping on that side. It was healing. _She_ was healing. Physically at least.

She sighed, looking herself in the mirror. Out of nervous habit, she nibbled on her thumb, while her eyes traveled to her midsection, but she quickly averted her gaze, moving it back to her face. Her hair was long, but not too long due to the occasional haphazard haircut. It fell in brown waves down her shoulders, and she duly noted that even the strands of her hair seemed lifeless. She pulled her thumb away, eyes traveling across her own face. Sometimes she felt like she didn't even know who she was anymore. She still had the same beautiful blue eyes, the same color of her father's, and some prominent features like the high cheekbones that were most definitely her mother's. She leaned a little closer, peering into her own eyes. A memory of the ocean came to mind as her eyes swirled with emotions. Her lips formed a straight line. Sometimes, Miley would release the blame of her life onto her mother, but it hardly helped, as she was dead and it was only curse her memory more. She would never know what she was living through... how badly she was being abused... what he did to her every time they were alone in the house.

Overcome with sudden fear, she collapsed on the king-sized bed, eyes watering at horrible memories. They would never stop; _he_ would never stop...

- x -

Miley awoke later, her eyes running to clock right away. She had slept five hours! She sprung up immediately and rushed out of the master bedroom. She halted at the stairs, running back to the bedroom and fixing the sheet of the bed she had disturbed, patting them flat, smooth, and unwrinkled. Once she was certain it looked untouched, she hung the robe back on its hook, immediately engulfed in the chilly air conditioning. She smelled the robe, making sure she didn't leave a scent on it. She didn't. Descending the stairs in just her underwear again, she made her way to the laundry room. She opened the washer and transferred the clothes to the dryer. She set the dial to 20 minutes, and started drying them. She stood there in the laundry room as she stared at the dryer doing its work, listening to the rhythmic sound of it, willing it to move faster.

"Faster," she whispered, as if talking would egg it on as well.

Time seemed to speed up and the washer seemed to slow its speed.

Finally, she exhaled in relief as it beeped, and she pressed the buttons quickly, opening the dryer. She pulled on her shirt, sighing in contentment as its warmth engulfed her body. She pulled her sheets and cleaned underwear out as well, and dashed as fast as she could up the stairs, tucking everything back into its normal place. He might come home later, but he could also come home now, and if he was, Miley had to make sure that she was in her room all day after she cleaned.

Once she was satisfied with the state of the house, she retreated to her room in the basement, threw the sheets over her cot, and dived into them, their warmth from the dryer still lingering. She didn't even have a minute to appreciate the comfort of her clean sheets before she heard the echo of the front door slamming, immediately stopping all blood flowing through her.

She listened to the footsteps, trying to figure out who was it that had returned. The footsteps traveled upstairs, were silent for a while, then returned downstairs, into the kitchen, then ... oh no. They were coming down into the basement.

Fear lurched inside her, and she gripped the sheets, terrified.

**-x-**


	6. Tortured Soul

**Disclaimer:**_ We do not claim to own anything Disney affiliated._

**A/N: Hi guys! Drew here with chapter 5. You can look back to last chapter if you forget where we left off. **

**Enjoy!** **(And Miley, I'm SO SORRY!)**

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_"I cannot stand being awake, the pain is too much." ~ _Spike Milligan

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**Chapter 5: Tortured Soul  
**

John Casey Oken stepped into Miley's dark, cold room. Standing at the threshold of the doorway, he looked even more intimidating as Miley looked at his tall figure. She shrunk in her cot, bracing herself as he stepped into her room.

"Get up!" he yelled at her.

And so again, she had to obey his commands, or it'd be even worse.

Reluctantly, she slowly slid off her cot and stood up on the floor, her bare feet touching the cold floor. He took a step forward and she cowered, physically shrinking as he towered over her.

"Please, sir-- I-- Just-- Please, don't-"

He hit her, his hand connecting squarely with her right cheek, causing her to fall straight to the floor. The cold floor met her cheek, causing her to groan in pain. He stepped over her, rolling her over with his toe.

"Don't _plead_, bitch. _I_ AM THE ONE THE ORDERS _YOU_ IN THIS HOUSE."

He kicked at her frail body, eliciting a wheezy cough.

"I'm sorry, sir! I-" Miley began to apologize, but the tears were coming, and raining fast, just as they did every time. She struggled to get up, her just-washed shirt that she wore was already dirty again – no matter how many times she washed it, he would hit and hit her again, leaving the emotional stains on it _and_ the physical pain for her to feel.

"You're sorry? For what?"

"For- For-" She couldn't even form words anymore.

"FOR EVERY_ FUCKED-UP_ BAD THING THAT HAPPENS TO ME? YOU _BETTER_ BE SORRY FOR THAT!" His voice boomed, making Miley wince.

"Y-yes, I'm sor-sorry, sir!" she managed to squeak.

Agent Oken _[or rather, Agent Casey, he preferred]_ came from a job that was highly stressful, and he was not a man that could handle all of it easily. He had seen agents die in the field at work, and he had seen criminals get away with their crimes. Some of those things could never be erased from his mind, and when he hit his breaking point, he needed an outlet to project all those feelings, and unfortunately, it had to be Miley.

"SHUT UP! SHUT _UP_!" he picked her up and hurled her to the wall. She bounced off of it and fell to the floor again, feeling more and more like a rag doll rather than a person. She felt the painful bruises that formed on her shoulder, and she knew it wasn't over yet. She continued crying, trying to make it as silent as possible so he would not have another reason to hit her.

"Get up. GET UP." She obliged, just willing for it to end as quickly as possible. But he just pushed her again, and she fell on her cot, ruffling her thin sheets. He grabbed her by her cloth and shoved her at the wall and walked up to her.

Her slapped her again and she fell to the floor. He knelt beside her, watching her squirm in pain, small and vulnerable.

"What is this?" he yelled at her, picking up a load of her shirt in his fist and sniffing it. Miley wasn't sure what he was referring to, but when she was silent except for the sobs coming from her, he repeated himself, even louder, causing her to scream instinctively.

"THIS SHIRT YOU'RE WEARING. WHO LET YOU WASH IT?"

_Oh no_. He had smelled the fresh smell of recent laundry detergent on her cloth. Miley braced herself for another explosion of anger from him. She immediately regretted washing it at that moment; he was in the red zone of anger.

"I just-- I just t-thou--"

"You – You _USELESS BITCH_!"

She just continued sobbing, knowing that saying anything would just provoke him again, praying that it would end soon.

But it didn't and as usual, it escalated to more. He ripped the cloth right from her body in a fluid motion, exposing her body to him. Thoughts of fighting back raced through her mind, but she had tried that before – it just made him even angrier and the pain more unbearable. No one was going to save her; it was just him in that small room with her, and it wasn't going to end until he was done with her. But maybe this time he wouldn't--

That small hopeful thought evaporated from her as quickly as she thought of it – he had unbuckled his belt, and then whipped her with it. Bruises were forming on her hips, and her hands received more even abuse as she tried to defend herself from him.

"You," he picked her up and shoved her against the wall, her bare back bruising from the hard wall behind her. "You – YOU'RE A _FUCKING USELESS_ WASTE OF SPACE!"

He punched her again, feeling her tears. He wiped his hand on her side, yelling at her for getting his hands wet.

Miley crumpled to the floor, the pain becoming far too unbearable for her. What she thought was unbearable, however, was nothing close to what she was about to experience--

The sound of pants being dropped to the floor in a soft flurry echoed in her ears. She felt like she could hear everything 10 times better, and feel everything with more sensitivity. Her mind and body were aching. She shut her eyes swiftly as she saw his shadow over her, bracing herself.

A sudden weight on her lower abdomen made her whimper uncontrollably, and automatically put her hands on her face, sobbing into them. Rough hands grabbed her wrists, slamming them to the ground, pinning them together.

She could feel his hot breath against her neck, as a hand hooked into the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down her legs slowly. She trembled, eyes squeezing tighter as if she were wishing that would make it all disappear.

"What's wrong?" he mocked, smacking her cheek lightly. She could feel his ragged breathing as he released her wrists to grab her hips in a bruising manner.

His hands wandered, and his lips fell messily upon her face. She yelped, turning her head from side to side, making small sounds of protest. She let one of her hands fly, managing to land a hit on his eye. That deserved two more swift hits to her stomach, leaving her gasping for breath. He made a sound of discontentment, and took up her wrists, shoving them together and taking his belt securing them in that place. He pinned them above her head and she felt the weight on her abdomen shift--

_'Oh God, no-- Please--'_

She struggled to keep her legs firmly glued together, and he hissed in frustration, delivering a swift, painful hit to her stomach, landing on an _already_ developing bruise causing her legs to shoot open and her back to arch. A pained shout left her mouth as she squeezed her eyes tightly in pain. Her legs kicked out, struggling before his hands roughly grabbed her thighs, pushing them apart further. He stopped his assault only to hit her squarely in the jaw.

"Shut. _Up_," he hissed, just as that white-hot pain shot through her. She felt the air fly out of her as his entire weight pressed on top of her.

Her back scraped against the cold floor as he continued the rape-- She felt that unbearable pain shoot through her, ricocheting from between her legs straight up to her brain where she was desperately trying to think of something other than what was happening--

She could hear his own breathing, now uneven and ragged, and she could feel his free hand, moving from her hip to her stomach then up, up, up-- She felt disgusted, _violated_-- She wished that she could erase this, and every other horrid memory from her mind...

She wished that she had _somebody_--

A loud cry left her mouth unintentionally as he harshly bit at the skin at her collarbone. Her eyes shot open, and she knew that image would forever be burned into her mind-- His face, contorted in what seemed to be manic pleasure, and that _sick_, twisted smirk on his face-- His eyes dark - almost_ black_ - looking at her, much more evil than ever had been before, and then the way he finally released her wrists to ram into her once more, causing her body to shake and pain to shoot straight from her toes to her forehead, her entire body trembling. His hands wandered her body with a force that was anything but gentle. She felt the strong urge to shut her eyes

"_Shit_," he cursed, upon hearing the front door slam. "Our little secret, right?" he asked, pressing himself into her again, breath coming across her neck and using a tone that was threatening and low. She nodded numbly and he clambered off her, grabbing his pants and untying belt from her wrists before patting her cheek fondly. He reached around, laughing quietly as he tossed her shirt and underwear at her.

She remembered how it felt-- When he took his weight off her. She had become even more aware of her own state-- She could feel the light sheen of sweat on her body, the way her hair was plastered to her face, and back, and the way her wrists had become slightly discoloured from the belt. She could feel every ache and sore on her body, starting from her face all the way down to her legs.

Most of all, she could feel her hands and legs shaking uncontrollably.

She let out a pained whimper, curling up into a ball as the door shut with a click She let out the sob that was stuck inside her throat and tears started streaming down her cheeks freely.

She had learned to expect this kind of treatment, but that didn't stop it from hurting any less.

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**T's A/N: thanks so much for the reviews. feedback is obviously quite strongly appreciated. :) well. since school has started up again, updates might be more infrequent, but sit tight, kay? :) review s'il vous plaît, but don't hate us. xD**

**&&everybody check out Drew's page (link is in my profile) and tell him how awesome his stories are so HE'LL UPDATE (or write a new one) :)**

**ily all. :) reviewwww pwease?  
**


	7. Dreamcatcher

**Disclaimer: **_we do not own. :) the story idea, yes, but all rights go to their respective owners. :)_

**A/N: Hi guys! Theresa here. Thank you so much for all the reviews! keep it up! We're aiming for 10+ reviews per chapter. :D dun dun dunn. can you do it? :)**

**Anyway. Here's a lighter chapter. :) Drew still feels bad about last chapter. xD  
**

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_ "I have had dreams, and I have had nightmares. I overcame the nightmares because of my dreams.__" - Dr. Jonas Salk  
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**Chapter 6 : _Dreamcatcher_**

Miley let out a sob, her body aching as she rubbed her eyes against the sheet. His voice continued echoing on repeat inside her head, and she felt as if his hands were still on her body, rough & calloused. She felt soiled, _dirty_, used and most of all _alone_. The walls around her seemed to close in around her, and she felt as if they had eyes that were watching her, silently observing. She slipped her hand almost automatically beneath her mattress, pulling out the photo. She could barely see it properly, eyes blurred due to continuous tears, but she found herself wracked with sobs once more as the emotion flooded through her. She tucked it beneath her pillow, sobbing aloud again, eyes falling shut as if that would aid in reversing time.

Her lips moved soundlessly for a few moments as her fingers traced the smooth surface of the picture, before she managed to emit a soft whimper wracked with pain and anguish.

"Mommy..."

_Miley swung her legs on the bench, watching her mother pay for the two ice cream cones. The California sun beat down upon her head as she took in the feel of the warm sunshine. She carefully straightened out the clothes she was wearing, continuing on swinging her legs._

_Her mother handed her a chocolate cookie dough ice cream cone, and she smiled happily, cheekily showing her teeth at her mother in a playful manner. "Thank you, mommy."_

_Her mother gently ruffled her hair before kissing the top of her head and focusing on her own ice cream cone. "You're welcome, Miley." They sat in a peaceful silence for a few moments before she turned to her daughter once more. "What do you want to do today?"_

_Miley thought about it, licking at her ice cream cone, enjoying the coldness that engulfed her tongue and mouth in the sweltering heat. She looked down the boardwalk, looking down at the beach. She smiled, eyes brightening and pointing down, eagerly bouncing in her seat._

_"You want to go to the beach?"_

_"Beach!" she chirped happily standing up and taking her mother's hand. A swell of happiness ran through her. "Beach, mommy! Beach!"_

_"Hold your horses, Miley Ray. Don't you want to finish your ice cream first?" Susan asked, amused as her daughter's face changed from eager to shocked as she looked at the now-dripping ice cream cone exposed to the heat of the sun._

_"Oh! My ice cweam! Okay!" Susan laughed, leading her daughter to the bench where they sat, eating at their ice cream cones in a comforting silence. _

_"Are.. Are you happy, Miley?" Susan asked quietly, putting a hand on her daughter's arm._

_Miley blinked large blue eyes up at her mother, innocently licking at the ice cream cone. She broke out in a large grin, ice cream staining her lips and around her mouth. "Miwey's happy," she supplied, nodding. "Don't weave me, okay, mommy?"_

_Susan laughed, hugging her daughter lightly. "Never." She tucked a strand of hair behind Miley's ear, chuckling as Miley hiccuped._

_"Beach!" she said firmly, tugging on her mother's hand._

_Miley tugged her mother's hand, pulling her along behind her as she ran as fast as her small feet would let her. She enjoyed the bright sun, and the cool breeze from the ocean spray._

_The sun sparkled across the water and light waves beat against the sand. Miley entertained herself thoroughly with digging her feet in the sand while swinging her sandals around._

_"Mommy?" she asked, after dipping her toes in the water. "When we gonna see daddy an' Jackson?"_

_There was a short silence._

_"Soon, baby girl. Soon-- I mean, we're on an adventure, aren't we?" She poked Miley's nose playfully. "Just us girls. We don't need those boys, right?"_

_Miley giggled happily, walking down the beach, tiptoeing through the sand._

_A flutter of movement caught her eye, and she stared curiously at a seagull which landed near her._

_"Bird," she said proudly, pointing at it._

_"Seagull," her mother said, smiling._

_"Sea--Seagull?"_

_Susan nodded._

_"Can I pway with it?"_

_"I don't think that's a good idea."_

_Miley laughed, happily pretending to be a bird, flapping her arms, scaring off the poor seagull in the process. It made a loud sound of discontent and Miley shrieked, running back to her mother and peering out from behind her legs.  
_

_"Scawy."_

_"Scary," Susan agreed, stroking her daughter's head. Miley frowned at the bird which spread it's wings, flapping indignantly.  
_

_Miley tentatively stepped forward._

_"Be careful, Miley."_

_Miley grinned mischievously, carefully scooping up a bit of water from the edge and without warning, tossed it towards the poor birds. They hopped away, some flying, much to Miley's delight. She chased after them, calling them back but to no avail. A tad disappointed, she ran back to her mother, holding her arms up. Susan chuckled, picking up her daughter, and swinging her around causing Miley to laugh cheerfully, pretending to be one of the birds. She clapped her hands gleefully, pretending to fly, imagining what it would be like to touch the sky and just soar for hours without a care in the world._

_Without a care in the world..._

A rippling shiver awoke Miley from her short-lived slumber. She peered around through heavy eyes, rubbing the dried up tears from her face. She saw the plain, dark walls of her 'room' and her body still ached from before. She felt that elated feeling leave her chest causing her heart to pound painfully against her ribcage. She shut her eyes, chewing on her lower lip.

That dream, that flashback-- _Whatever_ it was... It had been _so _real... Miley could still feel the ocean breeze, the taste of the ice cream, her mother's hand on her head, the security of being in her mother's arms--

She couldn't hold back the sob that burst through, causing the floodgates to open. Hot tears made their way down her cheeks and onto her pillow as she trembled, stuffing her fist in her mouth to refrain from making a sound.

She tucked herself deeper into her cot, pretending that the thin blanket wrapped around her was her _mother's_ arms, her _father's_ arms, her _brother's_ arms-- _Somebody's_ arms that would just, _for once_, protect her from the coldness of the nightmarish world she was stuck in.

Nothing had changed, nothing would _ever_ change.

* * *

**Aww. Will Miley ever be happy like that again? She's so alone. :(**

**Leave a review please. Drew out. :]**


	8. Awkward Interactions

**Disclaimer**: We do not own anything affiliated to Disney. :)

**A/N: Drew's in the house! This skips a few days after the last chapter. =]**

**This is quite a big chapter. And yes, Oliver's already dumped Lilly. :]**

**If I told you Theresa wrote the first half of this, you'd believe me, right? **

**-waits-**

**_Right_? xD**

**

* * *

**

_Why, oh why did I not see this before,  
The girl I adore, was right in front me.  
And now I take a step back,  
And look in your eye and ask why,  
It took so long to see, we're meant to be._

Happy ~ NeverShoutNever!

* * *

**Chapter 7 : Awkward Interactions**

Oliver got out of his car, hopped to the other side to let out Dana, his girlfriend of four days. She was tall – almost the same height as him, and had long brunette hair that flowed to her shoulders, with gold streaks in them. She had full lips that curved into a mischievous grin and eyes that glittered. She was dressed in the school uniform, with her skirt hitched high enough to show half of her thighs. It showed off her legs, and that was just what Oliver liked to see.

Smiling as she got out, he slammed the door and pressed his lips against hers. His hands gripped her sides as he pressed himself against her as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her own hands found the car handle to the backseat, opening it. She bent herself lower, allowing herself to sit down, Oliver's lips still attached to her. He was completely on top of her, their upper bodies in the backseat of Oliver's car.

He stopped kissing her, panting, "We'll have more room," pausing to breathe, "in the house."

"But your car," she replied, while her hands wandered to his belt, "is _so_ fucking_ hot_."

"But inside has some toys you might like," he said, invitingly, his lips curving upwards while he focused on pleasuring her with his hands, gliding them over her thighs.

Still glued to each other, they managed to get through the front door and into the living room. His keys clattered on the table loudly and they fell onto the leather couch instantly. Oliver took off his belt, throwing it aside and moving his hands back to her legs, slowly moving them higher. When he got to her skirt, he motioned as if to take it off, but he slid his hands underneath it instead, coming into contact with her wet underwear. He smiled, kissed her hard and moved his hands to pull off her tank top. She moaned as he took it off of her with two hands and fluttered his fingers over her upper body. He took off his own shirt to her delight, and she instantly pounced on him, flipping them over on the couch. Her own hands played on his chest, moving through every area of it.

"Dana," he breathed under her grasp, completely aroused. "My room."

She pouted but obliged, kissing him once more, then grabbing his hand. They ran towards the foot of the stairs, and up three steps around the spiral staircase, but they were stopped by the sight of Miley, dressed in her normal oversized t-shirt, coming down the staircase at the same time. Miley let out a nearly inaudible gasp, hand flying automatically to her mouth and Dana screamed loudly; both she and Oliver were shirtless.

"Who the hell is this, Oliver?!" she screamed, causing both Miley _and_ Oliver to wince and Miley to flush furiously.

"It's- It's--no--" No one outside of his family had ever seen Miley before; she was pretty much their well-kept secret. Miley felt her cheeks burn as her eyes flashed momentarily to Oliver and to his chest which was quite obviously bare. She shut her eyes, feeling her entire face heat up and carefully opened her eyes, making sure to keep them pointed at the ground. Oliver, still extremely aroused, tried to guide Dana past Miley and up the stairs, but she wasn't moving.

"You already had another girl here!?" She looked Miley up and down, from her top that flowed to her knees, down to her bare feet, eying her with suspicion and resentment. The sudden interruption by Miley had wiped her mood, completely. Miley looked flustered, desperately trying to make herself shrink back up the stairs.

"N-no, I'm not--" Miley began, not sure what to say, throwing side-glances at Oliver. She just hoped that he could get out of this so she would escape any trouble. She tried to avoid looking at his bare chest; there weren't many times that she'd seen him without a shirt – not recently, for sure.

"Dana, forget her! I never thought she'd be- _Uhh_--" Oliver swallowed, unsure of how to get himself out of this mess.

"_WHO IS SHE_?"

"She's – uh – _nobody_! You're – uh-not supposed to s-see her," stuttered Oliver, not sure what to say.

"So you were just hiding her! All this time you've been fucking another girl? Fuck _YOU_, OLIVER OKEN!" She descended back into the living room quickly, retrieving her tank top.

"Yes-- NO! She's not another girl I've been with! Wait!"

She was out the front door without another word. Oliver stared after her, befuddled. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. Did he just get dumped for the first time? That wasn't the way it worked... he was supposed to have great sex with them... and then dump them. What the hell just happened? He turned to Miley, who had taken the opportunity of his temporary silence to attempt an escape. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from escaping. Her cheeks were bright red and she automatically riveted her eyes to the floor so she could avoid looking at him. He stepped up to the step she was on, and glowered at her, eyes narrowing.

"_Damnit_, what the _hell_ are _you_ doing here?! You just ruined my- my-"

"I'm sorry, sir! Sorry, I should not – shouldn't have interrupted – you-"

"She was- You weren't supposed to be around here! _Fuck_--"

"Sorry, sir! I didn't – didn't mean to b-be here!" She looked down, feeling ashamed, still trying to avoid looking at him, fearing that it would be rude to look at his bare chest.

"Damnit--"

Oliver, still dazed from losing his girl for the first time, yelled out his frustration at her, but he stopped at the look of Miley – she looked almost sad, as if she was about to cry. He realized his hand was in the air, and he brought it down slowly, still staring at her. His expression changed from anger to unsureness, and suddenly, Dana evaporated from his mind.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sir.." Her voice seemed to trail off to an echo in his mind, as he felt his heartrate speed up a little.

Oliver didn't say anything, but rather, just stared at the apologetic Miley, feeling a little sorry for making her tear. She was looking down, but her eyes flickered back and forth quickly from the floor to him; she seemed confused at his sudden halt of anger. Was she supposed to go? She wasn't sure – he seemed to be done yelling but she felt glued to the spot she was standing on, under his scrutinizing. Their closeness on the stairway gave her an awkward feeling; she avoided eye contact with him, still staring at the floor. She hesitantly moved backwards, her back hitting the wall, and she swallowed, looking up.

Oliver's eyes were indeed glued to her; his conscience told him that he shouldn't be giving her this attention; she wasn't anyone of importance to him, but he couldn't stop staring at her, especially her eyes – they were a beautiful blue, and he had never noticed them before. He wondered why on earth he had never noticed her eyes before. Oliver was usually more drawn to other certain areas of a girl's figure, but past the oversized t-shirt and her bare legs, her eyes really stood out to him, and he couldn't stop looking at her.

Miley awkwardly felt the gaze, still unsure of whether to leave or not. She looked at him again, and looked away; perhaps it would be rude of her to stare and he'd get angry again. She looked at him again, and saw his – almost sincere, slightly confused look. This time she didn't look away, but tilted her head slightly and matched his confused expression – why was he looking at her like that? It felt... _different_. In a good way. Like she was being noticed for the first time, and it felt really warm. A flutter of something moved in her stomach and she shivered, goosebumps erupting. The silence was deafening, but she no longer felt fear. Her lips tentatively curved upwards as if testing the waters, and her eyes stared back into his. She forgot that she was a servant, she forgot that she lived a terrible life, she forgot about her struggles, the pain, and the misery. Instead, she was trapped in that moment with Oliver. She thought she saw a smile form on his own lips – thin – but distinguishable as a slight grin, and suddenly, he was moving closer to her. Her eyes widened fractionally, and she struggled to keep them open. His hand landed on the wall beside her head. He looked confused, _still_, but somewhat in a trance. Heat rose to her cheeks as he drew closer, and she sucked in a breath.

Oliver heard her breath, and he shot back, almost falling down the stairs. He caught the railing, a hand flying to his hair as he stared in shock. She looked scared, confused, but he saw the smile that had been playing at her lips, so he assumed that she was... _okay _with it?

The silence was no longer comfortable, so he coughed awkwardly, taking a step down. He heard her exhale loudly, almost in relief and she slowly made her way back up the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she repeated once more, from the railing at the top. He looked up, offering a small smile before he mentally slapped himself and wondered what on earth that was.

He picked up his shirt from the living, pulling it on halfway before wondering what on earth she was sorry for.

Miley stared at the spot he was standing her heart and stomach still fluttering as that feeling remained within her. A dazed smile broke across her face as she pushed herself off the railing, leaning back against the wall.

Miley felt alive for the first time in a long while.

* * *

**Theresa here! Aww. Wasn't that cute? And yes. Drew did write the first half. All the heavy stuff. LOL. haha. So drop a review and tell us what you thought! Can we try to get to 10+? :D Ily all! ^_^**


	9. Body Language

**Disclaimer: No own! :P**

**A/N: Theresa here!! :D**

**okay. some things to cover.**

**4 reviews last chapter. FOUR reviews. That's F-O-U-R. I'm...to be honest...quite disappointed. :( :( We have quite a few alerts, so please, just review! :) Even if it's just 'that's awesome, please update soon'.**

**Because Drew and I, we've set a pace to update every 10 days. I suppose we could extend that to 20. Not a big deal. Less work for us. :D**

**Anyway. Enjoy this chapter!**

**PS. Follow Drew on Twitter!! You'll catch updates and his creepy obsession with Miley at drewlovesmiley. :P :P j/k. but he does have some pretty cool tweets. :P twitter. com/drewlovesmiley  
**

* * *

**Chapter 8 : Body Language**

Miley exhaled noisily, running a hand through her hair. She combed through a few knots before quickly running her hands under the tap and splashing her face with water. She dried her face with a paper towel and tossed it in the trash, desperately trying to focus on dinner. She was to make dinner for John, Nancy and Oliver--  
_  
Oliver..._

She swallowed, trying to forget that strange look that he had held in his eyes earlier, and the way she had felt when he was looking at her like that--

She trembled, gripping the counter for support as her knees momentarily buckled. She wasn't exactly sure _what_ she was feeling, but she knew that she had definitely enjoyed that little bit of attention he had given her.

"How's dinner coming along?" asked the boy in question.

She looked up, startled, almost dropping the pot she had been holding. She set it on the counter before avoiding his gaze and managing a small 'it's okay sir', and flushing before turning back to the stove. She stirred the stew around, making sure it wouldn't burn before turning down the heat a little and checking on the roast chicken.

She sighed, hoping it would turn out well. She concentrated on stirring the stew, not thinking about his eyes on her, all while wishing she could look back into those eyes once more.

"Smells good," he commented casually, leaning back in his chair a little. She shut her eyes before glancing at him tentatively out of the corner of her eye. He was staring quite intently at his place mat and idly twirling his fingers.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

She thought she saw him open his mouth to say something else, but at that moment Nancy Oken decided to walk in. Miley bowed her head a little, making as little eye contact as possible, but she could have sworn a suspicious look passed over Oliver's mother's face.

"How's dinner coming?"

"G-good, ma'am."

"Almost ready?"

Miley nodded, moving the pot of stew over to the dining table and turning around just as John entered. He smiled maliciously at her, a glint in his eye and Miley trembled from head to toe, feeling thankful that she wasn't holding anything at the moment.

She turned off the oven, pulled out the chicken, and sighed as she set the meal out in front of them, almost tipping over a glass in the process.

She apologized profusely and went to get cutlery. She set it out for Nancy, John, and finally Oliver. When she made to place his set in front of him, his hand darted out towards her at the same moment, causing their fingers to graze for a lingering moment. She looked up, locking eyes with his, and she thought she saw a small smile playing at his lips before it was gone and it was like nothing had happened.

Nancy glanced between the two teenagers who both looked slightly red and uncomfortable, and narrowed her eyes, coughing slightly.

Miley, now flustered and confused, spun around, her elbow accidentally knocking into John's glass and causing him to spill water down his front.

Miley's eyes widened, Oliver shut his eyes, turning away, and Nancy coughed once more, focusing on her food.

"You're really damn clumsy, you know that?" he snapped, voice dangerous.

"I-- I'm s-sorry, sir--"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Just make yourself useful and get me another glass," he said, harshly gripping her wrist. She winced, still feeling the bruise from a few nights before. He jerked her arm towards him and she made a small noise of pain. "You really don't want to make a lot of mistakes," he breathed. She nodded, feeling humiliated and quickly picking up his glass.

Oliver observed the entire altercation, his mind giving him a nagging urge to defend Miley. He saw Miley's hurt look and he wasn't sure why, but it sent a pang through his own heart. He took a gulp of water, before sighing and swallowing a little of his pride.

"You know dad, this _does_ look delicious."

Everybody looked up, shocked. Miley almost dropped the new glass, Nancy paused mid-bite, and John looked up from cleaning his pants off.

"Yes-- Well, I suppose--" John stuttered, looking curiously at his son, wondering what on earth had gotten into him. Nancy narrowed her eyes in suspicion once more as she could have sworn that as Miley was pouring another glass of water, her son flashed her a small smile, which it looked like she returned.

_Odd._

**-x-**

The kitchen was now empty, and Miley set to cleaning up. She felt as if she were floating, her mind still buzzing over Oliver and the different emotions he managed to instill in her. Her lips twitched into a little smile as she automatically washed the dishes, her hands scrubbing and rinsing, scrubbing and rinsing, then proceeding to dry. She hated using the dishwasher as it sometimes malfunctioned since she didn't really learn how to use it...even after years of being in the house.

Miley sighed, something she realized that she did quite often. She shook her hands over the sink, letting little droplets of water fly into it. She picked up a small stack of now clean dishes and turned towards the cabinets. She opened the cabinet, her hands automatically putting the plates where they belonged. She was so well adapted to doing so, that she felt like her body was a machine, merely running through the motions.

She wanted to finish quickly now, since she was almost done, and ran to the kitchen table to pick up a few dirty plates. She spun around, ready to make her way to the sink and finish her job in a jiffy. What she didn't expect was to collide right into Oliver, who happened to be walking forwards. He stumbled, and his foot slid on a small patch of water that she had somehow overlooked causing him to tumble backwards. His eyes widened, almost comically, and his arms flailed, looking for something to support himself. He grabbed the first thing he could - which happened to be Miley - and there was a small yelp as they both fell to the floor. Her knees dug into his sides and the little remnants of food that were on the plate had transferred to his shirt.

"I'm _so _s-sorry!" she stammered, looking frantic. Her eyes looked at the mess all around them, before sliding to his face.

There was a momentary silence as their eyes met. Miley was already trying to move off him, but stopped midway, knees still digging into his side a little. Now her hands were planted on either side of his head as she froze in the middle of trying to push herself up.

"I--Uh--"

"Y-you--"

"Sorry--"

She flushed, and looked away, now noticing that his shirt was dirty. She gasped, and immediately sat back, using her hands to brush away the crumbs. She seemed to forget what position they were currently in as she focused on the dirtiness of his shirt. She frowned, biting her lip as her fingers danced across his chest.

He felt his face heat up as he became more and more aware of the fact that she was _straddling _him.

"Um..." he started.

Her eyes flickered to his again.

He felt his face heat up even more, and his entire body tingled. He immediately removed his hands from her waist, looking completely embarrassed. She stood up on her knees, still trying to clean off the food residue on his shirt caused by her fall. She was so oblivious to their position that she hardly noticed how both of his legs were squeezed between her knees as she kept trying to brush off the mess she caused.

Oliver, already uneasy with this current sensation, braced his hands back on the ground for support. He felt Miley's hands roaming his chest, but didn't object to the intrusion of personal space. He was starting to lose feeling in his legs and couldn't move them as they were practically locked in between her knees. He started growing uncomfortable, feeling the heat of her body on him. He tried to utter words, but his voice was stuck in his throat. Instead, he just stared up at Miley, who was still frantically trying to clean his shirt.

She was muttering inaudible words subconsciously, not even realizing that she had trapped him underneath her. She had made somewhat of an improvement on his shirt, with only minor smudges visible around his shoulders. She continued wiping off the crumbs beneath his chest. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed how she had gotten the area around his stomach wet; she rushed to grab a paper towel beside her to wipe it dry.

His body became more and more aware of her touch, realizing that she was dangerously close to his waist area.

"Uhh--I should--" he began, stuttering awkwardly.

"--Wash it--"

"--Yeah, I'll go--change this shirt..."

"Okay," she said, stopping her hands, which happened to be right on his waist.

They stared at each other again, Miley looking down at Oliver, Oliver looking up at Miley, trying to get up.

"Uh--" he stuttered again, not knowing what to say.

She looked puzzled, cocking her head in confusion. "Hm?"

"Y-you're kind of--_on_ me," he muttered uncomfortably.

"Oh--OHH-" she blushed. "-Sorry--"

She stumbled, scrambling off of him, realizing that he couldn't move under her grasp.

"Yeah--th-thanks--" He pushed himself off the ground, instantly feeling the loss of her presence on him.

"Sor-sorry again--" she stammered, unable to look at him directly, instead, staring at her hands.

"Um--yeah--I'll just--go..." He gestured to the stairs.

"Yeah--you should--change--"

"Change--yes. Uh..." He paused, then decided against saying anything else.

He walked in an odd manner - stumbling almost as if he were a tad drunk - toward the stairs to the bathroom upstairs. He took a last peek down at the kitchen, seeing Miley trying to pick up the fallen plates. As soon as she picked one up, it slipped from her fingers, falling to the ground again.

Miley bit her lip, frowning in frustration. Her hands were shaking nervously, but she had no idea why. Her mind was buzzing even more than it was before as she tried to work out what had just happened a few moments ago. She was so confused, and yet her heart kept telling her that it was something that she wanted, something that she needed. Her hands still tingled, as did her legs, in all the places their bodies had touched. She had never really experienced something so intoxicating, something so addicting. She managed to steady the plates in her arms, and put them on the counter. She exhaled, bracing her arms on the ledge, trying to collect her thoughts.

It wasn't much use anyway. Her mind was a jumble of _Oliver, Oliver, Oliver._

Upstairs, Oliver managed to stagger into the bathroom, shut the door quickly and collapse against it. It was all he could do not to let his body give in to the most natural reaction he could have. He was unsure as to when and why she had started affecting him in this way. He shut his eyes, trying not to think of how much he had actually _enjoyed _that little fall. He tried not to think about how close their faces had been. He tried not to think about the way their bodies had fit _perfectly _together.

He _tried._

What happened instead, was he imagined her hands on his body again, but this time, not stopping at his waist.

His eyes widened as a rippling shiver went down his spine and he quickly turned the tap on, splashing cold water across his face.

He slumped back against the door, groaning.

"_Damn it_," he breathed out.

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**D's A/N: Ooooh. How awkward. Wouldn't I love to have Miley on top of me too … -dreams- … Oh. Uh. You guys are still here. Well. REVIEW. You're getting your Miley/Oliver interaction that y'all wanted. According to your reviews. So tell us. Like it? Hate it? Want more? =P**

**Ps: check out my twitter. follow me at drewlovesmiley ! :)  
**


	10. Can't Get You Out Of My Head

**Disclaimer:** Same as before.

**Drew here. THERESA IS EVIL. EVIL!!! O_o**

**Here's 3,000 words. Enjoy. =]**

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_Let me be your fantasy, yeah_

_I know you dream of me every time you fall asleep…_

Fantasy ~ Danny Fernandes

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**Chapter 9 - Can't Get You Out Of My Head**

Miley awoke earlier than usual. She allowed herself a few more minutes to snuggle into her pillow before sighing and throwing the sheets off. Her feet touched the cold floor of her _room _and she shivered, feeling goosebumps erupt over her skin.

She tiptoed up the stairs, opening the door to the first floor landing, and sighed once more, this time stretching her arms above her head and letting a yawn escape her mouth. She padded quietly into the guest bathroom, and picked up her toothbrush. She peered at her reflection before squeezing a bit of toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She placed it on her teeth, rapidly moving her hand back and forth.

While she brushed her teeth, her eyes focused on her reflection. She wasn't really looking at herself...just contemplating yesterday's events. Her mouth curved upwards a little and she thought she saw a sparkle within her own eyes - something she didn't recall seeing for a very long time. She sighed, confused, unsure as to why _he _was suddenly affecting her so much. The attention was flattering and it made her feel strange inside, yes, but she still needed to know _why _this was happening - _why _she always felt like smiling whenever the mere mention of his name came up. She pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth and spit the paste out, running the faucet and rinsing out her mouth. She quickly combed through her hair, untangling the knots at the back of her head. She grimaced as she pulled out a few strands of hair and quickly tossed them into the trash bin. She set the comb down and gripped the edge of the sink with both hands for a moment.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked herself quietly, before sighing again and exiting the bathroom.

She entered the kitchen, pulling everything she needed down from the shelves. She prepared each breakfast meal individually, remembering exactly what each family member liked.

When she came to Oliver's meal, she found herself concentrating more, and becoming more precise with the way she added ingredients. She carefully measured the salt, the sugar, the eggs, ensuring that it came to a near-perfect meal. She put her entire being into making the meal.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she concentrated, remembering exactly how he liked his French toast, exactly how he liked his eggs. She let out a puff of air she had been holding in as she straightened her back, turning off the stove.

She was actually scaring herself, she noted, as she looked at what she had made. She didn't recall ever spending so much time and effort on anything.

She bit her lip as she realized that she really wanted to impress him, to make him smile at her, to make him grateful to have her around.

She couldn't resist a small smile, and she immediately frowned, wiping it off her face.

"Again," she muttered, trying to stop herself from thinking about Oliver so often, but obviously her attempts were futile as she placed the plates around the table, quite satisfied with her work and instantly wondering what Oliver would think about it.

She was having an internal battle with herself when Oliver himself walked into the kitchen, looking sleepy and disoriented. He yawned, and she found herself staring before she realized what she was doing and quickly scrubbed at a non-existent stain.

She looked up and their eyes met for a brief moment before he quickly looked away and stared at the table.

"Good m-morning, sir," she tried feebly.

He merely grunted in response, and she felt her spirits sink just a little. He avoided her eyes and focused on his plate, eating his food. He ate rather quickly and silently, so she gave up trying to attract his attention and focused on cleaning up around the kitchen.

Oliver glanced up from his food, which he was definitely appreciating at the moment, and noticed that Miley had turned back to her chores. He stared at her back, slowly chewing. He noticed the way light sparkled on her hair. He flushed furiously as she turned around and quickly looked back down at his food. He knew she could probably see the redness of his ears and made it a note to make a better attempt at avoiding her.

Miley eyed him curiously out of the corner of her eye, wondering why his ears and neck were red, and why he had avoided her _again _when she turned around.

He finished his meal silently, and when he finished, he smiled at her. She noticed the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but she smiled back, taking the plate.

"Thanks," he murmured, before making a quick exit. She frowned after him, but shrugged it off, setting the plate down in the sink.

She was surprised though; he wasn't usually out the door before his parents.

-x-

Oliver walked toward his car, appreciating the small breeze cooling down his red, embarrassed face. He took a brief look back at the house – the house that, strangely, he had been inside more frequently than any of his usual hangouts, parties, or bars.

Sighing, wondering what was wrong with himself, he got into his car and put it in gear. He backed out of the large driveway, forgetting to check the mirrors for any incoming cars. What he heard next was a resounding "_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP_", waking him up from his reverie. Alarmed, he looked back, hearing the skidding sound of a car braking. He hadn't felt a crash. Good. His car wasn't damaged. He jumped out, and saw that a red Lexus had braked three inches away from the back of his car.

He clapped a hand to his forehead, thankful that there was no crash. He looked at the driver of the Lexus, a middle-aged man in a suit and tie. He was angry, yelling at Oliver from inside the car. He navigated around Oliver's car and drove off, clearly in a hurry. Oliver looked back at his car, and noticed in the corner of his eye, Miley peeking from the window with a slight look of concern. Even more embarrassed, he avoided looking at her and got back into his car, driving to school with his head still filled with Miley.

When he got to school, he willed himself to block out any thoughts of her. Confident that he would be able to, he stepped out of his car, and faced the intimidating school before him once more. Checking his watch, he realized that he was nearly late for his first class. Getting into a running stride, he rushed through the halls and into the class with seconds to go. He didn't make a grand, snobby entrance though, just keeping his eyes to the ground and walking slowly to his seat in the back, even dodging Josh's fist bump.

He sat down, and immediately faced the front, unconsciously deviating from the first step of his regular routine: the girls in the class and how they looked today. He wasn't smiling at all – he looked very quiet and plain. His classmates weren't slow to pick up on their friend's odd behavior – they stared at him, but Oliver was not responding to their whispers or looks at all.

Oliver's manner didn't change throughout the period and by the end of it, his friends had basically given up on attracting his attention. When class ended, Oliver had absorbed more information in one class than he did the entire school year. Pleased with himself that he was able block out Miley—CRAP. _Miley. _Miley Miley Miley. NOO. His mind immediately flashed a red flag. STOP THINKING OF MILEY. _Miiiiileeeyy. STOPPP._

"Damnit, Oliver!" he said to himself.

"Yo. Oliver. What's wrong witchu man?" Josh had appeared beside him.

"Huh-- oh. Nothing, man. I'm fine," Oliver tried to reply calmly, returning the fist pump Josh had offered.

"Where's your girl?"

"Huh-- Wait-- what girl??" Oliver looked shocked, afraid that Josh knew about Miley.

"Dude, relax. Just haven't seen you with a girl in three days. What happened to whatshername – that uh … girl with the brunette hair and long legs…?"

"Oh—uh…" Oliver suddenly couldn't think. _Miley. _Brunette hair. His eyes grew large.

"… Dana, right? Yeah, Dana! What did you do to her?" Josh had remembered.

"Oh DANA!" Oliver exclaimed in huge relief. "Yeah, I'm done with her." He left out the fact that she dumped him for … _Miley_.

"She any good?" Josh looked hopeful.

_Miley_. _Miley_. "Uh-- you know. She was … not that great." Oliver tried to remain cool, at the same time, not recommending Dana, in fear that she'd tell others about Miley.

"Dude, you alright?"

"Ye-yeah, I'm good, man."

Oliver ran off patting Josh's shoulder, leaving Josh's "Later" in mid-breath. Oliver couldn't understand why _Miley_ was affecting him. He couldn't get her out of his head. His mind flashed back to the incident in the kitchen yesterday, how her hands danced on his chest, how they moved lower and lower …

He ducked into a washroom, backing into a wall. He looked up at the ceiling, dazed. He had to concentrate. He had to get her out of his head. But he _couldn't_. _He couldn't_. Thoughts and images of her tortured him as they floated through his mind.

He sighed, attempting to inhale deeply and breathe out. Walking to the sink fountain, he pressed down on a lever for water. He desperately needed some cold water.

_Damnit. _The water was warm.

He wiped his forehead with it anyway, took another deep breath and exited the washroom. He walked to his next class, ready to attempt a Miley-thought-free class.

_Yeah right._

-x-

Oliver slammed his locker shut, banging his head against it for a few moments.

Josh walked up to him, shoving his shoulder lightly. "What's up, man? You've been out of it for the entire day!"

Oliver rubbed his temples, his eyebrow twitching. "It's... just something... yeah. It's not important," he mumbled.

"There's a party later. You coming? Gonna be some hot chicks there," he said, winking.

"Nah. I'm good."

"You sure, man?"

Oliver nodded tiredly. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm just...going to head back home to rest."

"See you tomorrow," Josh said, patting Oliver's shoulder again before walking off with a group of his friends.

Oliver walked out into the school parking lot, pulling out his keys for his car and hoisting his bag further up his shoulder.

He was surprised to see somebody leaning on his car, and he almost yelled out, but lost his voice momentarily as he noted that it was a _very, very_ attractive girl. She was blonde and out of her school uniform, wearing an outfit that dared to reveal more skin. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, crossing one leg over the other and biting her lip seductively.

"_Heeeey _Oliver," she called out, beckoning him with her finger. He gulped, as she grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him towards her. "What do you say we--"

"--Sorry, can't. Busy workload," he interrupted quickly, pulling his tie out of her grasp and backing away.

She smirked, and uncrossed her legs, walking slowly towards him. "What's wrong, Oliver? You seem a little..._tense_. Maybe I can help you out..."

"I--uhhhh..." He swallowed, and pulled back all the way, unlocking his car, opening the door and jumping in.

"I'm sorry... I'm just not interested," he said, surprising her _and_ himself.

The poor girl looked highly affronted and she gave him an incredulous stare as he drove off.

He exhaled, turning on the radio and shaking his head to himself.

"What the hell was that, Oliver?" he murmured, keeping his eyes on the road. He was thoroughly agitated the whole ride home, and when he finally arrived home, he sighed in relief, glad he'd have some time to himself.

He entered his home and proceeded to ascend the stairs, looking forward to a nice, long nap. He threw open his door, and was shocked to see Miley humming to herself and vacuuming...in nothing but that _shirt_.

She looked up, and her own eyes widened. She quickly turned off the vacuum, and fumbled with the cord.

"Uh...I was just... Vacuuming," she mumbled quietly, gesturing around. "_Sir_," she added quickly.

"Oh, it's okay," he said, looking around awkwardly.

"I'll just...go..."

"--No, it's okay!" he said, a bit too quickly. "I mean, um, you can...continue, I guess? I'm just..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say, continuing to stand in his doorway uncomfortably.

"I'll go," she said, offering a timid smile. She bent down to unplug the cord from the wall-outlet and he found his eyes trailing down her back and eyeing the new expanse of skin on her legs that showed as she bent over.

He groaned inwardly, averting his eyes away and up to the ceiling.

She wound the cord around the vacuum, and looked back up at him, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Bye." She pushed the vacuum out, accidentally brushing past him. He shivered, and he felt an odd urge to do things that would be deemed highly inappropriate. He held his breath until she descended the stairs and shut the door quietly, before letting out a frustrated grunt and flopping onto his bed. He shoved his backpack away, and kicked off his shoes, rolling over to face the ceiling.

He shut his eyes, almost instantly drifting off into a very realistic dream world..._  
_  
_He had just been drifting off, when suddenly, there was a slight weight shift on his bed. He forced his eyes open, looking to see the source of the disruption. He was surprised to see Miley leaning over him, a nervous smile on her face. Her hand snaked up his arm, up to his shoulder, and pushing him back onto the pillows. He was about to say something, but thought better of it, and instead, he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. Once she was close enough, he cupped his hands around the back of her neck and pulled her down, his lips straining to meet hers._

_When they did, he almost passed out from the sheer ecstasy that ran through him. He moved his lips against hers, needing more, wanting more...craving more. She responded instantly, moving her hands to his chest where they perched, ready to move at any moment._

_He moved his hands to her waist, nudging her so she could move her body over his. She obliged, sighing softly against his mouth as she nestled herself between his legs. He kissed her harder as her knee moved up, up, up--_

_He pulled back, gasping for breath, looking into her eyes which were now a dark blue and twinkling mischievously. He leaned up again, capturing her mouth. She tilted her head a little, moving her hands back up to his shoulders and gripping them. His thumbs rubbed circles on her waist, causing her to shudder and press herself against him even more. He moved his hands down to the back of her thighs, then slid up her shirt, feeling the heat of her lower back.  
_  
_Her lips moved away from his, and proceeded to assault his jaw with light kisses. He preferred having her mouth against his, so he flipped them over, pressing a harder kiss against her lips. She looped her hands behind his neck, and moved one leg up around his lower back, pulling him down. He groaned, kissing her even harder, and moving his hands further up her back. He pulled back, licking his lips, and curling his fingers around the hem of her shirt. He moved her hands from around her neck, and she held them above her head as he peeled her shirt off. The desire to feel skin against skin was too much, and he instantly moved back down, claiming her lips with his own. Her own fingers gripped the bottom of his shirt, and tugged a little, so he parted from her with a sigh and helped her remove it. _

_The first touch was pure bliss. It seemed to light a spark inside of him, which in turn let loose an animal he never knew he possessed._

_"Oliver," she breathed, his name sounding like heaven coming from her now swollen lips. He kissed her harder, letting his hands wander, touching her body, feeling the places once unknown._

_He tugged at her bottom lip a bit roughly, but that only caused her to moan, and kiss him harder. He tried the action again, and she let her fingernails rake down his back lightly._

_Everything was perfect, except--_

_He tugged at the elastic of her underwear, and she smirked at him, removing her legs from around his waist so he could pull it down. He tugged it down, almost ripping it in his haste. She pulled him back up towards her and smashed their mouths together, tongues tangling and lips bruising. He ran his hands up and down her sides. He kissed down her jaw before moving to her neck and sucking lightly at the smooth skin. Her head tilted back to allow him better access, and he gladly took it, letting his mouth roam and his tongue and teeth graze her skin._

_With a surprising strength, she suddenly managed to flip them back over, so that she was now straddling his waist. Her hair fell about her shoulders in an erotic disarray. She moved a few strands out of her eyes, and grinned, moving her hips down against his. His eyes widened as his body started reacting quite obviously to her ministrations. He got over the shock, and grinned up at her, pulling her down for another searing kiss. And another._

_He dug his hands into her lower back, pressing her down against him and her hips rolled to the touch. He groaned against her mouth, just as her tongue forced its way into his._

_He felt her fingers loop into the waistband of his pants and underwear, proceeding to tug them down. He lifted his hips up, allowing her to do so. When she had succeeded, she gave him a devilish smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulders. He smiled, pulling her down for a kiss just as she lowered herself down--_

Oliver desperately fought to remain in his dream world for a few more moments, but he didn't manage to succeed. Instead, he found himself covered in sweat, and alone in his bed, with a problem in his pants.

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**Tizzleeee here! I bet you can guess who wrote what. XD XD or at least who wrote that last bit there. :) :) I couldn't resist! :D**

**Anyway, thank you _so _much for the reviews last chapter. :) :) Keep it up, please! :D  
**


	11. Keep Holding On

**Disclaimer:** Same as previous chapters.

**A/N: I have nothing to say. Just enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Keep Holding On**

_'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you…_

* * *

The house was quiet and serene as Miley quietly cleaned the main floor. Using a Swiffer mop, she moved around the large living area and the kitchen, letting it guide her. She chanced an occasional glance outside, wondering what it would be like to just sit outside peacefully and allow the sun to bathe her skin...

She gave a start as she lurched forward, blinking rapidly. She hadn't even realized that she had dozed off. Again. She sighed, peeking out the back door. She saw John sitting on a chair, reading the newspaper. She couldn't resist the shudder that passed through her as she looked at him and quickly looked away, feeling slightly more awake.

Miley tiredly pushed the mop up and down the floor. She used it to support herself, feeling the irresistible urge to just close her eyes and fall asleep. She felt like she had been on her feet all day...and now that she thought about it, she probably was. She dragged her feet through the living room, tugging the mop close behind her. She yawned, feeling everything in her body tighten momentarily before she relaxed and let out a soft groan. She idly pushed the mop in circles before turning around. She forgot that she was standing next to a small table, which held a vase.

In a flash, the handle connected with the base of the vase and sent it flying to the ground. It smashed upon contact with the hardwood of the kitchen. Miley winced, shutting her eyes. Footsteps raced down the stairs, but she could barely hear it due to the pounding of her heart ringing within her ears. She heard the pieces of glass slide across the ground, and then the sound of a frustrated yell from outside. She could hear her impending doom already... it was the sound of the glass door sliding open and the sound of--

"What the _fuck _is going on in here?!" She turned around slowly, staring at the ground. There was a short silence and then the explosion came. "Did you--Did you--YOU STUPID, FUCKING, _IDIOT_!" He took a step closer into her personal space and she could feel the fury radiating from him. She looked up timidly, her eyes meeting his.

"I'm sor--" Her sentence was cut off by his hand slamming the table next to them.

"Did I say you could _talk_?"

She pressed her lips together, eyes widening in fear. She quickly shook her head, trembling as he seemed to start towering over her.

"God," he breathed, looking at her with disgust. She wondered why he was looking at her like that. She felt the urge to shoot him the same look, but she didn't dare. "Can't you do _anything _without messing it up?!" he barked, glaring at her. "I swear, you are the most _pathetic excuse _for a human being, EVER."

She felt the urge to breathe heavily and just curl up in the corner and cry. She wanted to explain that it was an accident. She wanted to say so many things that were still on her mind, but she didn't know how to express herself.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he roared, bringing her eyes back up to his. He noticed the tears in her eyes and recoiled, looking smug. "Is that all you ever do? Huh? _Cry_?"

Her lower lip trembled.

"God, you're so..._useless._ I don't know why I even put up with your pathetic existence."

She thought she heard footsteps behind her, but she didn't dare turn around to look. She opted for looking down at the ground again.

"You fucking--"

"--Dad," came a voice from behind her. "Just leave her alone. I think it was an accident." This time, she looked around, her eyes landing on her saviour. She almost smiled gratefully, but her lips remained in a straight line when she saw Mrs. Oken standing right beside him. She avoided his mother's curious gaze and turned back around, looking back down at the ground. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when she felt somebody's eyes boring into her back.

"Excuse me?"

"I just..." He maneuvered his way over to stand behind her. "Like...just, leave her alone."

John stared blankly at his son for a moment before throwing his hands up in frustration and walking away, all whilst shaking his head. He turned around, narrowing his eyes. "Damnit... just clean it up," he said sharply, waving his hand dismissively.

"Come on, Oliver," came Mrs. Oken's voice.

"Yeah, I'll be up in a sec."

There was a silence as Miley heard her footsteps go up the stairs. When she did, Oliver exhaled, his breath coming in a warm swath across her neck. She shivered, then proceeded to ponder why she had reacted that way.

She trembled, feeling his heat from behind her and slowly bent down to pick up the pieces. Her hands were shaking from the verbal abuse _and _something else she couldn't quite place. It didn't help when Oliver drifted beside her to help pick up the glass, completely surprising her. Her heart fluttered at this affectionate gesture but it only made her tremble more; this time with nervousness.

"Th-thanks…" she offered in a small voice.

Oliver was pushing small pieces of glass together in a pile. He paused to turn to Miley and offer a slightly timid, but genuine smile.

Quickly looking down again, his cheeks reddening a little, he whispered, "You didn't deserve any of that."

Miley was surprised, but grinned, her heart warming inside. It felt good and uplifting to have someone care about her like that.

"You um… you don't have to help me. I can do it." Her voice was small and shy, and even she could sense that she didn't believe the words she was saying. She secretly hoped he wouldn't leave her.

"It's no problem. You look a little tired anyway." He offered another small smile.

Miley couldn't bite her lip fast enough to hide her instinctive smile. Oliver was really noticing her, and he cared for her well-being too. She immediately forgot of all the yelling that John put her through, only able to dream of Oliver's kindness towards her.

Her head buzzing with joy, she absentmindedly grouped together the remaining shards of glass, thinking about the boy beside her. She tried to sit up, but found out upon reaching for strength that her legs were made of jelly at that moment, making her stumble back onto the kitchen floor ungracefully.

Oliver gave a small laugh at her effort as he watched her, causing her blush embarrassingly.

She tried to steady herself but only succeeded in giving herself a cut on the palm of her hand. She yelped quietly, dropping the shattered piece of glass, and held her hand up.

Oliver bent down beside her instantaneously when he heard her yelp of pain. He took her hand between his own, inspecting the wound.

Miley froze momentarily, looking up at him as he observed her hand. Her hand tingled with warmth and yet she shivered. He noticed and looked up, worried that he had hurt her or irritated her cut even more.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted to tell him that she could handle it, that she had been through so much more, but she let it slide, as she secretly enjoyed the tenderness of his touch.

"We should get it cleaned up," he said softly, cradling her hand in his as if it were breakable.

She looked around nervously at the scattered pieces of glass. "I t-think I should cl-clean up," she stuttered.

"No, c'mon," he said, shaking his head. "Leaving it open and vulnerable could cause an infection and that would be pretty bad."

He looked genuinely concerned and she almost melted beneath his gaze. She tried to blink away the haze in her head and focus on what he was saying.

"I'll help you clean up when we're done," he promised, smiling again.

She couldn't help but smile back and nod, saying, "Okay."

He helped her up, keeping one hand on her elbow and the other still supporting her hand up, which had started to bleed quite badly. Her palm stung, but it was nothing compared to everything else she had experienced.

As they made their way to the bathroom, his eyes flitted to her cut. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

"I'm sure," she responded quietly.

"Okay." He turned on the cool water, running his hand under the light stream. "Put your hand under here and we'll wash it out, 'kay?"

She nodded, moving her hand underneath. She realized that he hadn't removed his hand yet, but she definitely wasn't going to complain. She could let him hold her hand for as long as he wanted. She watched him as he concentrated on gently washing her wound. Her gaze rested on him for a few seconds, watching him intently wash her cut. She felt his own fingers gently massage the area where her palm was cut, rubbing all the blood off smoothly. The water was seeping into the cut, stinging her, but she hardly felt it as he stared at his calm face.

After a few seconds, she felt like she was being rude by staring at him for so long, so she directed her eyes down at her hand, which was still in the tender grasp of Oliver's.

"This might hurt a bit," he said. His voice was soft and reassuring, making Miley feel at complete ease.

She nodded, and he applied soap onto the spot, which burned her for an instant. She withstood the slight pain, clenching her teeth, feeling relieved when it passed quickly. She looked up, and saw her reflection on the wide bathroom mirror. She saw herself, and then saw the peaceful reflection of Oliver, still carefully letting water run down their hands. She grinned at seeing both of them together in close proximity, feeling more comfortable than ever. She felt safe around him, something that she had never experienced in her life since she was a child.

Oliver shut off the water, looking up too. Both of them stared at themselves together in the mirror. He wasn't sure what he was doing – Miley, the servant of the house, was beside him, and he was generously helping her clean up a cut. He would've never thought he'd be helping her like this, but he didn't understand much right now, like _why_ he seemed so absorbed with her. Like _why _they looked so _perfect _together in that moment. Fragments of his dream earlier floated into his mind as he stared at them together, and he immediately tried to block them out.

He looked down, blushing guiltily. "I'm—I'll get a clean towel…"

He released her hand, moving over to the large wooden cabinet, reaching for a small, neatly folded towel. Miley felt the loss of contact from his hand, suddenly craving for it back. He walked back to her, wiping dry her hand with the towel. He was still extremely gentle with her hand, protecting it as if it was fragile. Miley stared at him sincerely as he applied the towel around her hand, feeling so happy that he was doing all of this for her.

Once her hand was dry, Oliver took a small bandage from a drawer. Miley held out her hand out for him, and he slowly made to wrap the bandage around her hand, sealing the cut away. He paused, however, when he noticed an almost faded bruise stretching from the lower half of her hand to her wrist. He frowned, lifting her hand up and peering at the discolored area of skin.

"Did you get this from falling down just a moment ago?" He finger touched the bruised area and her hand jerked as if she wanted to pull it back. She looked up at him, trying to make her face look as blank as possible. "Miley?" he prodded. She remained impassive, so he gave her one last lingering look before he returned to bandaging her hand. He wrapped it around once, then twice for good measure. Once he was done, he traced the skin around the bandage with his finger, giving Miley chills as she reacted to his bare touch.

Her shiver seemed to snap him out of his daze. "Remember to wash it frequently, okay? Remember." Oliver emphasized himself, staring right into Miley's eyes. She felt his concern, and simply nodded, melting again from his gaze.

"Thanks for … for everything."

"No problem," Oliver smiled. Their heights were a little different, so he was looking down at her while she looked up at him. The feeling from the first time they stared at each other came back to her; once again, it made her happy and alive. They were standing really close together, but neither seemed to mind. Miley had grown so comfortable around Oliver, especially after the gentle way he had helped her with her cut. She wasn't sure what to do though – was she supposed to leave? Was it possible that they seemed to be getting … even closer to each other in proximity? Was _he_ moving closer to her? Miley took a breath, getting a little nervous, unsure of what was happening.

A floorboard creaked outside, causing Oliver to jump. Miley turned around, and caught a brief flash of Nancy passing by.

"Uhh—I should clean up the rest of that glass," Miley said hurriedly, dodging Oliver and half-running out of the bathroom. She didn't think Nancy would approve if Oliver had been in the bathroom with her, helping her. She felt guilty but also felt wonderful that he paid so much attention to her.

In the bathroom, Oliver scratched his head, wondering if he had just almost kissed Miley Stewart.

* * *

**Writing cute Moliverness makes Drew happy!! 3 Anyway. Theresa and I are running a review-posting system. For every review we get, we will move the posting date up by 1 day. That's all we'll say. :P**

**So thank you for reviewing. =]**

**[And follow me on Twitter drewlovesmiley ! You might catch stuff about the story. :P ]**


	12. Nancy

**Disclaimer: We pwn Hannah Montana. Um. I mean. We own Hannah Montana. Wait. I mean – we don't own Hannah Montana!! **

**Hi!! Drew here. Chapter 11 is here too. Enjoy! **

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**Chapter 11: Nancy**

Nancy Oken peeked into her son's room. Oliver was stretched out across his bed, a leg hanging off the edge and the other bent at the knee. He was staring at the ceiling with a troubled expression occupying his face. His headphones were in his ears and in his hand, he clutched his iPod. She could tell he was listening to it at close to full blast considering she knew exactly what he was listening to at the moment. She walked towards him, and put herself into his line of vision. He looked startled and yanked his headphones out of his ears, sitting up. She moved out of the way to avoid bumping foreheads. She gave him a dry smile.

Oliver nearly shrank under his mother's scrutiny. Thoughts were running through his mind at a rapid rate, ranging from 'What's going on' to 'Shit, she knows'. He went with the first thought.

"What's going on, mom?"

The smile slowly slid off her face and he shrank even more.

"Oliver," she stated slowly. "I know how you feel about _her_."

He gulped, deciding to play clueless.

"I don't...um... I don't know who you're talking about."

She gave him a look and strode over to his bedroom door and pushed it shut. She turned back to him giving him a pointed stare. "_Miley,_" she hissed. "I've seen the way you look at her, I've seen the way she looks at you--"

"--I'm just--"

"--I've seen the way you take care of her too. Don't think I didn't see you that day you were happily holding her hand in the washroom. Oliver, there are so many other girls out there...I'm telling you not to choose this one."

"I'm just...I just care for her," he said, trying to keep his voice monotonous. He absorbed what his mother was saying. "I mean...Have you seen the way dad treats her?"

His mother looked surprised for a second, but it was gone in a flash and she remained as impassive as ever.

"My point is, you cannot be..." She paused, searching for the right word. "..._Interested_ in her."

Something clicked inside him, and he found himself sitting upright, staring his mother straight in the eyes.

"You know _what_, mom? I don't _care_ what you want for me, I don't care what you _think_. I care about _Miley_ and I'm not going to let that go. You're going to have to accept that if I want to date her, I'm going to do that. I'm going to like her whether you like it or not. I don't want any other girl. I want her." He finished with finality in his tone, and raised an eyebrow, as if daring his mother to challenge his statement.

She looked defeated, shaking her head in a disappointed manner. She heaved a sigh, mouthing an "I'm sorry", before she spun on her heel and stalked out.

Nancy wasn't about to let her son's heart fall into a girl that he didn't like; a girl that had temporarily entranced him, but would not be the one. Oliver was being ridiculous if he had new affections for the house's _servant_. He needed to know better. She wouldn't let her son mistakenly fall for a girl that didn't deserve him. Not if she had anything to do with it.

She went into the master bedroom and closed the door.

-x-

Miley was raking leaves in a thin, ragged coat in the Oken's massive driveway when Nancy called her in unexpectedly. The driveway could fit six cars, and Miley had been tasked to rake and bag all of the leaves clustering the driveway. She had been working for hours now, and she was barely half done. Relieved, she dropped the rake and ran toward the house, rejuvenated by the warmth. It hadn't been extremely cold outside, but Miley barely had any fabric shielding her, nor gloves. She was even more surprised when Nancy offered her a mug of hot chocolate. She gratefully accepted it, her hands vibrating from the temperature change. She sat down without being asked and sipped from the mug.

Something was up, but Miley didn't know what. She was too tired to think, and a bit numb. Nancy sat down too, eyeing Miley.

Miley avoided her eyes, and instead, concentrated on the hot chocolate that was warming her up.

"Miley," Nancy said sweetly.

Miley looked up; she didn't remember the last time she was addressed by her actual name.

"I've been thinking… you… you've been a great help to us," Nancy began, choosing her words carefully. "And I think it might be time for you to leave us." Might as well get straight to the point.

Miley's eyes shot up; what was this crazy woman talking about?

Nancy took the silence to emphasize her point more. "John and I have practically raised you, and we can't keep you forever, right?"

Miley took another sip of hot chocolate. Her eyes looked at Nancy with uncertainty and confusion. "You-you want me to g-go?" She felt foolish asking it.

"Yes, basically."

"Why?"

"Because-" Nancy didn't think Miley would be questioning this. "Because it's good for you. You can't be living with us for your whole life." She paused, trying not to frighten her. She changed her tone, adding a touch of softness. "Don't you want to find your parents?" Nancy offered a thin smile.

_Her parents_. Dad. Jackson. She thought about the picture hidden under her bed. _Mom_. Her hands tightened up, feeling the emotions overcome her.

Nancy sensed she hit a sensitive spot. Capitalizing, she continued. "I've prepared some clothes and money for you. It should be enough when you're ready."

Miley stared at the table blankly, still thinking about her family.

Nancy rose from the table and left the room. Thousands of thoughts were rushing through Miley's head – her terrible life here, her parents, John…. _Oliver_.

She jolted; how could she possibly run away from Oliver? He had been the light in her life this past month, one that gave her hope and happiness. She looked forward to seeing him everyday, and she knew that he cared for her. She didn't have that feeling with anyone else, and she didn't know if she could live without it.

From the stairs, Nancy watched Miley contemplate. She seemed to be really thinking about it. The only possible reason she'd resist was if she considered Oliver too important to her. Which meant that Nancy had to push that thought out of her mind.

Time for step two.

-x-

Nancy held the phone against her ear, drumming her fingers impatiently against the table. There was a click and she smiled. She cleared her throat a little before lowering her voice and using her 'man-voice'. It was convincing enough, as she was soon striking a conversation with the person on the other end.

"Um, hey, it's Oliver. I was just wondering whether we should get together a bunch of the guys and head away for a few days. How's that sound?"

She paused, then smiled.

"Perfect... okay... we have to make sure my mom doesn't know, kay? Yeah, I've got everything already."

She nodded, listening, smiling. "Yeah, so I was thinking...."

-x-

Oliver lay on his bed, slipping in and out of consciousness. Every time he shut his eyes, her face floated into his mind, and he was brought into another world where he was holding her in his arms and enjoying every minute of it - until he was jerked back to reality as his mother's words rang within his ears.

He glanced at his clock, rubbing his eyes. He groaned, seeing the numbers glaring at him and rolled over, hugging his pillow. He shut his eyes, inhaling slowly and soon he was slipping back into his dream world. He could feel the silky locks of her hair between his fingers, the feel of her breath as it came across his neck in warm swaths, then suddenly he was seeing his mother's face, looking down at him with disappointment and disdain. He hugged the pillow/Miley tighter, groaning, and the vision was gone as he returned to a conscious state.

He grunted in frustration, throwing the covers off him and dragging his feet out his bedroom and to the washroom.

"Stupid mother," he mumbled. "Stupid, stupid..." He reached for the doorknob of the bathroom, making to open the door, but it was locked. He sighed, knowing that his mother or father was probably using it, and made to go downstairs to the spare bathroom. He slipped down the stairs, tiptoeing down the hardwood. He reached for the doorknob, too sleepy to make sense of the sound of running water coming from within. He reached a hand for the door and it opened by itself. He gaped at the person behind it.

Miley looked equally tired, but when she saw him, she took an alarmed step back, eyes widening.

"Er..."

She didn't say anything, looking at him with a mixture of curious adoration and surprise.

"Sorry," she said finally, moving out of his way. Her voice was low and quiet, and it sent tingles down his spine. He swallowed, moving past her. "Goodnight Ol--" Her eyes widened at the error, and she quickly backtracked. "I mean, goodnight sir," she said quickly.

Her eyes met his as she looked up, and he was once again, stunned by their beauty. They seemed to sparkle with different shades of blue, each seemingly representing a different emotion.

Miley inhaled slowly, her breath getting caught in her throat. She felt a strange warmth pass over her as her eyes met his - the blue contrasted with the brown. She felt as if she were leaning forward a little, and quickly pushed herself back, swallowing. She fumbled nervously with the sleeves of her shirt, blinking and turning away.

"Goodnight," she mumbled once more.

He stared blankly at the spot she was just standing at before slowly turning around to splash his face with water.

He turned off the light and slowly slipped back upstairs. He felt a bit more refreshed and relaxed, but he had a feeling it had nothing to do with the water. He turned on his desk lamp and slid out a pad of paper. He quickly scrawled down a few lines, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks as he read over the emotions he had just written out.

He pulled the paper from the pad, and folded it neatly, tucking it into his bag. He didn't need anybody seeing that.

Oliver crawled back into bed tiredly, finally feeling a definite sleepiness pass over him.

He fell asleep with a slight smile on his face, similar to the girl who was two floors below him.

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**Review please!! :) Drew and I had a lot of fun writing this :D ~Theresa**


	13. Separation Anxiety

Disclaimer: as usual. :)

**A/N: Hey, Theresa here! Hope everybody had an awesome holiday. A belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! And now...back to the hustle and bustle of the rush of everyday life. **

**Remember to read, enjoy, and _review! _:) Let's try to top the 3 reviews from last chapter. Thanks to everybody who has reviewed so far! greatly appreciated.  
**

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**Chapter 12: Separation Anxiety  
**

Oliver felt rooted to the spot. He trembled from head to toe as a light sweat started to cover his body. He wanted to move - take a step forward, but he couldn't. Short gasping breaths left his lips as he tried to formulate words. Miley whimpered from right in front of him, her own gasps leaving her lips. She was clutching her side, her face contorted in what looked like unbearable pain. Her eyes watered as they stared up at him imploringly.

"Oliver," she whimpered. She struggled to get up, only falling back down on the colourless floor. She tried to heave herself closer, but she barely did. The pain was attacking her from every part of her body. Her hand reached out to him, trying to touch him, but he was too far away.

He watched as she stretched towards him feebly. It looked like an extreme effort that left her with no more strength or energy. He tried to move his arm, but he couldn't. It was stuck in place. The only part of his body that he felt he could move was his eyes. So he looked around. It was what looked like a white room. Completely empty and bare. He had never seen this room before in his life. He struggled to move again, but it seemed to cause all the nerves in his body to cry out in protest. He looked around helplessly, then looked back at Miley. She tried to speak but the only thing that came out were muffled coughs. She stared hopelessly at him, the pain beginning to overtake her.

Oliver's eyes widened as he saw a new shadowy figure looming over her, looking menacing and evil.

"Watch out!" he shouted.

His eyes forced themselves shut as he found himself unable to move once again. A piercing scream of pain ripped through his eardrums and shook him to the core.

Suddenly he was falling backwards, and he braced himself for the impact, hands flailing uselessly.

He was surprised when he was jolted and his head hit a soft pillow. He gasped, his heart racing uncontrollably. He had been clutching his blankets until his knuckles had turned white. He was sweating, too. He blinked up at the ceiling, willing his heart to slow down. His breath was still fast and unregulated, the images of the dream playing in his inner vision. His brain buzzed as he tried to make sense of the dream. Her scream had sounded so real...and it unsettled him deeply. He swallowed, panting. Was she in trouble? He thought about Miley, sleeping two floors beneath him. Had something happened to her? He _had_ to check. He threw off his sweaty t-shirt, and made for the door forgetting to put on another one.

He gave a start when he heard a light tapping at his balcony window. He clamped a hand over his mouth, swallowing a surprised shout. He saw his friends waving at him eagerly – and rather urgently. There were at least... three of them standing on his balcony. He raised an eyebrow in question and dashed over to the door, unlocking it. A gust of cool air hit his face and he shivered, allowing them in. They seemed flustered and rushed, their words not making much sense in his sleep-ridden brain. He heard the words 'Las Vegas' and 'impromptu' somewhere, but he was too surprised to say anything. They jumped into his room and stared wildly at the mess.

They berated him for not being properly packed and threw things into his suitcase that was half-full. He wondered _when_ that had even become half-full. Josh tossed him a pair of jeans and a shirt and he numbly pulled them on. They kept egging him on, passing nervous glances at his door.

"Guys, I--"

"Shh, c'mon, let's get going!"

A flash of that piercing scream ripped through his mind again, and he made towards his door.

"Where are you going?" A hand pulled him back.

"I just need to--"

"We don't have time! The car is running down there!"

"I need to check something!"

"Check what?"

Oliver kept quiet. What was he supposed to say? That he wanted to check on the girl living in his basement? That he wanted to check on the girl he was ... in love with? He saw the poem he wrote only a few hours ago sticking out. He grabbed it, slipping it into his pocket subtly.

"Come on, dude! What are you waiting for?"

He allowed his friends to steer him to his balcony where they showed him how to get down by gripping onto the ledges of his house. Wait. Why were they doing this? What the hell was going on?

Soon, he was sitting in the backseat of the car, blinking tiredly at the passing streetlights. The vision of the dream was still so strong in his head; he hardly realized his friends just kidnapped him and a suitcase full of his clothes.

"Got the tickets?"

"The tickets for what?" he asked confusedly. Tickets?

"The plane tickets!"

"Oh uh...." He wasn't sure what was going on.

"Check your bag, please," Josh said, nudging him nervously.

Oliver obliged and was surprised when he grasped a few tickets. He pulled them out, examining the paper with a bewildered expression on his face. He dug further into his bad, and found a stack of money, wrapped and bound neatly.

Back at the Oken residence, Nancy finally heard a silence throughout the house, and smiled to herself, sipping at her tea.

**-x-**

Miley woke up early in the morning. She lay in bed, staring up at the old ceiling. In a minute, she'd have to wake up and provide another breakfast for the family of Okens. But this time, it could be her last time. She wondered _why _Nancy offered her the chance to leave the house, after all the years she spent in it. If she had been asked to leave just a month ago, she would've accepted without hesitation; anything to get away from John Casey. But ever since Oliver took new attention to her, she felt livelier and _had_ to be close to him. He was the only comfort she had left, and she didn't want to let that go. With him, she felt she could be someone. He made her have something to get up every morning for.

Sighing, she strode out of bed. She smoothed out her shirt, thinking that maybe it needed another wash. She walked out of the room, yawning. She walked up into the stairs and into the kitchen, jumping when she saw Nancy calmly sipping coffee, sitting at the table.

"G-good morning, ma'am," Miley said obligatorily.

"Good morning, Miley," Nancy replied smoothly.

Miley came to a halt, stunned at the reply. She saw a smile on Nancy's face. Miley shuddered, scared.

She drifted to the fridge, trying not to make any fuss. She had learned to ignore the people around her, so even if Nancy was smiling creepily at her, Miley didn't care. She had to admit she was flustered, just a little. Nancy up earlier than her, talking to her, and then_ smiling_ at her. Miley tried to keep a steady hold on the eggs for breakfast as she thought about it.

Walking to the stove, she set the carton of eggs on the counter, and reached down to retrieve a pan. She felt a little nervous; she never had an audience for her cooking. Turning the stove on, she took the box of eggs and proceeded to take out three of them.

"Oliver isn't here this week. Don't worry about his breakfast."

Miley spun around, and her arm immediately swung and attacked the sitting eggs, causing them to fly to the floor.

SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLAT.

She stared at Nancy, who was still smiling.

"Oh. Um. Wh-where is he?" Miley stuttered, shocked.

"Oh, Oliver left for a little trip with his new girlfriend. They went to Las Vegas." Nancy was enjoying the tormented look on Miley's face. The plan was working perfectly.

"G-girlfriend??" Miley squeaked.

"Oh, yes. Didn't you know? He likes her a lot. You thought he liked _you_? I know my son, Miley. He doesn't have any interest in _you_," she smiled. "He's probably having fun there right now!"

Miley stood frozen, feeling rooted to the spot. No… it couldn't be true. It couldn't. It wasn't even seven hours ago when they ran into each other in the basement.

"They left in the middle of the night," Nancy said, answering Miley's thoughts.

The way he looked at her… Miley remembered the look she saw on him earlier; it was one she was growing accustomed to seeing from him. And it made her feel happy. She felt the impact of his leaving all of a sudden. No one was here to protect her. No one was here to make her happy.

"_NO_!" Miley suddenly screamed.

"Shhh. Quiet, dear. Don't wake up John."

Miley gripped the counter, feeling herself lose stability. No. It couldn't be. He couldn't have left. She ran out of the kitchen, leaving Nancy and the egg mess. She raced up the stairs, and ran right through Oliver's closed door without knocking.

When she walked into the room, she saw the messy bed. Oliver had slept last night. The room looked just as she had seen it previously. His pajamas were strewn on the ground. It looked just like the same whenever she cleaned up after him after he would leave for a school day. He wasn't here though. She panicked, not wanting to believe it. She ran out the room, and into the bathroom. The door was closed. She turned the knob and opened it, expecting to see him.

The bathroom was empty.

Miley didn't know what to do. She felt the walls around her suddenly close in on her. Oliver wasn't in the house. Oliver wasn't in the house. Oliver wasn't in the house. He left her all alone.

Now she felt more alone in her life than ever before.

**-x-**

Nancy continued sipping her coffee, wondering when Miley would come to her, asking to get out. It was only a matter of time, because Miley wouldn't be able to live in here without Oliver. Her plan was working out perfectly. She looked at the mess of eggs on the ground, and got up to clean it.

**-x-**

Oliver didn't understand what was happening. His friends had told him that he had called them and arranged the trip to Las Vegas. But that was impossible; he hadn't called his friends in days, and definitely didn't pack a suitcase nor buy tickets. They had just appeared in his room without warning in the middle of the night. And then his friends arrived at 3 AM to whisk him out of his sleep – and that dream.

Oliver didn't know why he had that dream of Miley. It scared him, because it hurt him excruciatingly to see Miley in pain. He couldn't help but think Miley was in danger somehow. The room that they were in was unfamiliar to him, and that dark, shadowy figure was so intimidating. What disturbed him the most though, was that he was absolutely frozen in the dream, and she could only stare at him in pain as he stared back helplessly. Was she in danger? If she was... Oliver would regret leaving. She meant so much to him now, and if anything happened to her, Oliver wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He sighed, leaning his head against the window. He felt anxiety creep through him and the desperate need to be at home overcame him. His brain spun different scenarios that could happen if he wasn't around - if he wasn't there with her. He groaned, kneading his head. Was he over thinking it? Was he overreacting? He knew that there shouldn't be anything to worry about. His parents were going to be home at night, and she wasn't allowed out of the house without supervision. Nothing could happen, right? Was it worth going back to California, now that he was in Las Vegas?

He stuffed his hand into his backpack, looking for a bottle of water. His fingers brushed a small piece of paper. Curious, he pulled it out.

It was that poem he had written her.

His eyes scanned the piece of paper and his heart thudded painfully.

Yes, it was worth it. She was worth it.

**-x-**

Miley sulked in her room for the rest of the day and evening. She tucked herself into bed, crying quietly into the pillow. She still wasn't exactly sure why she was sad, but she knew she wanted Oliver with her.

She thought about how he made her feel safe for the first time in years. Safe AND happy. Two feelings she never thought she'd be able to feel while being in this house. She sighed, tucking one hand under her cheek and using the other to tug the worn blanket up around her shoulders. She curled up so her feet wouldn't stick out, exposed to cold air. Maybe she should leave this house after all…

But what if Oliver came back?

She heard heavy footsteps above her. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to take any more pain in one day.

"Please go to the kitchen, please go to the kitchen," she muttered, clasping her hands together.

It was to no avail, as the footsteps took a turn towards the door to the basement. She shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to sleep - or just seem like it. Maybe he'd leave her alone for _one_ night...

She heard his steps as they walked down the stairs. Slowly, taunting her. She was already quaking in fear, and almost burst into tears when his voice rang out clearly through the basement.

"I know you're awake."

She shivered, biting her lip as she rolled over, squinting at his shadowy figure. He neared her, and she cowered, shrinking back against the wall.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please, _please_, I don't want this. Not tonight. _Please_."

"I don't give a _shit _about what you want," he breathed, reaching forward and pulling her ankle. She yelped as she slid off the bed and onto the cold floor. Her cheek collided with the concrete. She practically clawed at the ground trying to get away.

"No, no, no," she moaned. "I don't want this."

He yanked her up by the back of her shirt and shoved her against the wall. "Shut up," he hissed. "_SHUT. UP_."

He whirled her back around and delivered a hit into a stomach. She coughed, sliding down the wall a little, but remained standing due to his hold on her shirt. He grabbed her jaw in a death grip forcing her to face him.

"Not. A. Sound," he said lowly. "Or I'll make it hurt."

She couldn't stop herself from letting out another whimper of pain as his grip on her jaw tightened. "It always hurts," she whispered.

_SMACK._

She was on the ground so fast she didn't even remember falling. The side of her head started throbbing and she wobbled as he yanked her back up.

"You worthless piece of shit," he muttered, throwing her onto the bed. He tugged at his belt, pulling it off. She trembled and at the last minute tried to make a getaway. He caught her and threw her back onto the bed. It creaked loudly as she bounced on it, hitting the wall it was pressed against. He grabbed her arm and used his belt to tie her wrist to the bedpost. He grabbed her other wrist and twisted it dangerously. She squeaked in pain. "You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?" he asked tauntingly. "A _good_ little girl for me, _right_?" He released her wrist to stroke her face. She shut her eyes in disgust and fear, turning her face away. She heard him chuckle.

His fingers looped under the waistband of her underwear pulling it down and tossing it away. She instinctively curled her legs against herself, keeping her eyes shut.

He swiftly delivered another hit to her stomach. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

"I thought you were going to be a good girl," he said menacingly. He leaned over her, unbuttoning his slacks. She heard the fabric pool at his ankles. A rustle, and another article of clothing was discarded.

His breathing was ragged and she could almost see the manic glint in his dark eyes. Her eyes blurred over once more with tears as that all-too-familiar sensation of pain ran through her starting from between her legs.

How she wished now to have taken the offer to get out of this wretched house when she had the chance.

The pain was too much, and all she could do was let it happen right before her. She was too drained of energy to fight back and too drained of life to care. All she wanted at that moment was to die, right there. She sobbed, closing her eyes, waiting for it to end. But it didn't. Another thrust sucked the breath out of her, choking her.

He slapped her cheeks, continuing to attack her frail body with a force that brought her closer to feeling an emotional death with each thrust. Why couldn't it end? He relentlessly beat her with his hands, forcing her off the bed, only restrained by the belt still looped around the bedpost. Miley just let herself be kicked around like a rag doll, just hopelessly taking the pain. Her hair was a mess of strands, and the bruises around her face and body were just getting darker and darker.

He untied the belt from the post, freeing her hand. She sighed, realizing it was over, but still couldn't withstand the pain anymore. She wanted it to end. She wanted him to finish her, to kill her right there. She continued crying, slumped against the corner of the wall. No one was going to rescue her, and she had no more purpose in this life. Her tears kept on falling, but it made the pain worse. The torture had been unbearable, and even though she had survived it, she wished she didn't.

"God, you're just so fucking pathetic."

All she could do was cry, incapable of uttering a syllable without causing herself to explode in tears.

"I said, _NO_ SOUNDS."

She whimpered, unable to hold back her cries.

"SHUT _UP_."

"I-I-"

SMACK.

The belt suddenly was thrown at her body, eliciting a sound of a whiplash that echoed, even in the small room. A red mark with the shape of the belt's end appeared instantly on the spot, and she cried even louder.

"SHUT UP. SHUT UP."

Another one came. And another. She cried louder with each whip, which just brought more to her. He was persistent, using the weapon as if he was at war. He didn't care about her pain. He was just hysterically beating her with brutal force.

A final blow caught her head, and she fell, her head hitting the ground limply. Tears fell from her eyelids to the ground, and she fell silent.

**-x-**

Oliver grew increasingly worried, his dream still bothering him. When he had left, he had brought a long trail of doubt with him, one that was eating at him with each passing second. He could only hope that she was okay, and pray for the best for her. He didn't want to turn back and check on her now. As the plane he was sitting on flew further and further away from his home, he felt a twinge of regret, as he knew with each additional minute, it would take him an extra minute to get back to her.


	14. Revelation

**Hey guys, Drew here! So it's been a while. I really recommend reading back the last chapter. And Theresa and I are gonna try getting back on track with this wonderful story. Don't stop reading – and reviewing!**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

****Chapter 13: Revelation**

- O -

**Las Vegas, Nevada**

Oliver cupped his cards, barely focusing on the game and hardly aware that he was actually raking in the winnings. He turned to stare at his cheering friends blankly, his mind too lost and confused to comprehend anything. He felt strange - almost as if everything was surreal, and the fact was, he actually really missed Miley at that moment. If it had been a couple months ago and his friends had randomly abducted him, dragging him off to Las Vegas, he would've been enjoying himself - heck he probably would have gone willingly, yet here he was, not enjoying himself at all.

He wasn't even enjoying the multitude of gorgeous women that would walk past him from time to time. Sexy blondes, leggy brunettes, revealing dresses were flying by him and causing his friends' jaws to drop to the floor but it had no effect on him whatsoever, as if he was trapped in his own Oliver world. And what Oliver wanted, was not Las Vegas and the excitement and endless pleasures associated with it. Oliver wanted Miley, and he wanted nothing else.

An image of her fuzzily appeared in his hand, and she was beautiful. She was smiling at him, and his heart immediately warmed at the vision. An overwhelming urge to reach out and hug her overtook him. He stretched out his arms …

"Uh, sir? Would you like to double down?"

The low voice of the dealer snapped him out of his reverie, and Miley vanished from his sight, to be replaced by the male dealer, who seemed to be trying to maintain patience with Oliver.

"Huh? Oh …"

Oliver looked down to a six and a five in front of him. Six plus five …

"Yes," he muttered, moving another stack of chips in front of the dealer.

The dealer peeled a nine from the deck, giving Oliver a 20. He barely watched as the dealer busted, giving Oliver another sizable win. He unconsciously stacked the new chips, while his mind continued grasping at what he really wanted…

_Miley Miley Miley …_

- M -

**Los Angeles, California**

It felt cold.

It felt extremely cold. Miley awoke, and her left cheek was numb from the cold floor it had been stuck to. She pulled her legs closer into her body, trying to roll into a ball, but it hurt everywhere. Her eyes still closed, she winced as she ran a finger along what felt like an open wound on her stomach.

Then she remembered how they became. The whiplashes that John attacked her with. Thinking about them made it hurt, even though she knew she was alone. It was as if they were happening again, and they were never ending. She let her eyes remain closed, trying to slip back into unconsciousness, but she couldn't; she only kept on seeing visions of John attacking her in her mind. Oh, how she wished she could just erase these memories and rid herself of all the pain, or just die.

Realizing that leaving her eyes closed only kept on bringing horrifying visions back to her, she opened them. With great difficulty, she blinked, and felt pain on her eyelids. He must've hit her there too. In front of her, she saw a dull, bland wall. It signified her pathetic living conditions, and she wanted nothing more than to be removed from existence.

Miley sat up and let herself weakly collapse against the wall, using her hand to lift her body off the ground. She looked at the back of her hands, and saw the scars on them too, scars that appeared when she tried using her hands to shield herself from John's swinging punches. They still stung now. It felt like too much to handle for her. She felt useless, she felt dirty and violated, and worst of all, she had lost the only thing that had ever given her hope: Oliver. And that hurt more than anything, as she remembered the moment when Nancy told her that Oliver had left.

She might as well take Nancy's offer to leave. There was no reason for her to be here anymore.

- O -

"Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. You like, killlllllllled it at the backjack tabo, mann."

Oliver's friend slapped him on the back – rather hard – in a congratulatory pat. Oliver, just a little intoxicated himself, stumbled, but didn't say anything, his mind was screaming _Miley Miley MILEY!_ Was it possible to want someone so much? Was it possible to be concerned for someone that he had hardly ever spoken to, just because of a dream he had? His mind felt cloudy and his head was spinning from the alcohol, but visions of the dream were crystal clear in his head.

He remembered seeing her face in agonizing pain, calling out to him for help. But she had been too far away, and he couldn't reach her. He couldn't help her, and next thing he knew, he had woken up and got dragged out here in Vegas. But he didn't want to be here. He needed to know that Miley was okay.

He needed to get out of here. He really never wanted to go to Vegas in the first place. He wanted … Oliver wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. But it wasn't to be away from Miley.

He mentally slapped himself for leaving her, and knew he had to go back now. He glanced at his friends, who were all clearly drunk – extremely drunk. Inconspicuously, he slowed his pace and let his friends pass him, who were all walking in jagged directions, suffering from the alcohol. He slowly walked backward, and then turned a corner, out of his friend's sight.

Breathing out, he peeked back to see if they noticed. They clearly hadn't, appearing to still be talking as if he were there.

"Well what are you runnin' from, hot stuff?"

Oliver jumped, and saw a blonde in a stunning black dress leaning close into his ear.

"No. Nothing, I don't need-"

"What do you say, bring me back to your room? I can make it worth your while…" she whispered, blowing softly into his ear.

"Get off me," Oliver pushed her away, checking his friends again.

They hadn't noticed. Oliver ran off in search of a taxi, hoping his friends weren't too drunk to get crazy enough to get married and steal a tiger.

- M -

Miley found Nancy sipping on her coffee. Nervously glancing around, she approached her. A chair was out, and Miley made a move to sit in it, but then decided against it, standing a few feet away from her.

Nancy flashed a grin, but it quickly disappeared, as she saw the scars all over Miley. Her eyes scanned Miley up and down.

"I-I want to go."

"You would like to leave?"

"I don't want to stay here anymore." Miley voice was timid.

"Very well."

Nancy put her coffee mug down, and stood up. Examining Miley closely, she asked, "What happened to you?"

"I fell down the stairs," Miley replied, looking at the ground.

"Let's clean you up first, then," indicating to Miley that she should follow.

_Finally_, Miley was leaving this wretched place.

- O -

Oliver zipped through the airport, looking for the first flight that would bring him back to Los Angeles. There was one leaving in fifteen minutes. He stumbled onto the US Airways booth with a loud bang on the counter with his hand, shocking the ticket lady.

"Please – give me the flight to Los Angeles that leaves now!" He tossed a few hundreds from his stack of bills he won from blackjack, staring frantically the lady pressed keys on the keyboard, checking the computer.

"Passport, sir?"

Oliver flipped through his pockets, tossing his passport at the lady. She stared at him disgustedly, opening the passport to his photo and glancing back at him. She pressed another button as the ticket started printing out of the machine. She opened the cashier box, collecting change for the bills that Oliver gave her.

"Keep the change, just get me the ticket!"

The ticket printed, and she handed back his passport, looking at him snappily. "Gate 23, sir."

Oliver ran off without thanking her, racing off in search of gate 23. He hit several people, knocking luggage cases out of hands and jumping over little kids.

He couldn't miss this flight. He needed to get back to Miley. He couldn't get the horrifying dream out of his mind, and he almost knew that something was wrong with her.

Rushing through the crowds, he saw the line for gate 23 was empty; everyone that was on the flight and had already made it on the plane and the guards were closing the door.

"WAIT!"

Sprinting at the gate, he held out his ticket, stopping his feet right at the door. The guard took his ticket, examining it. It passed his approval, as he handed it back to Oliver. He made to open the door, but the guard stopped him with his arm.

"Stop." He sniffed Oliver, and the scent of alcohol was apparent. "You're drunk."

"No, I'm not! I _NEED_ to get on this plane!"

The guard stared at him, his hand nearing his radio.

"Sir, don't. I _HAVE_ to go. Please."

Oliver's voice attracted the attention of several other guards, who were now coming closer to where Oliver was.

"You're drunk. Please step back."

"Please, sir. I need to go back to Los Angeles and see—"

Oliver breathed, pausing. He looked directly into the guard's eyes.

"I need to see the most important person in my life. Let me go, please," he said in a low, smooth and genuine voice. After the words came out, a feeling of confidence and bliss washed over him.

Their staring match continued for what felt like minutes to Oliver, before the guard moved his hand and let him go.

"Thank you," Oliver said as he opened the door and ran through the platform into the plane. Navigating his way into his seat, he collapsed, exhausted. He was almost there.

He was almost back to Miley, the most important person in his life.

The plane closed its doors and took off.

- M -

Miley sat still as Nancy silently treated her injuries and bandaged her cuts. It had been painful, and it seemed that there were dozens of wounds. Nancy wordlessly tended to each one, and Miley sat there with her eyes closed, enduring the stabs of pain. The silence wasn't unnerving, but the prospect of finally being free was. She never thought the day would come when she wouldn't have to serve John and his family anymore – such a thought had never even existed before Nancy brought her the opportunity.

She thought about Oliver, who she missed but left her. He had been the only person that she ever felt something for. Was it affection? It certainly felt like it, but it had crushed her when she learned that he had gone. But throughout her time in this house, she knew that he never showed feelings for any girl, and she realized that she certainly was no exception.

Yet she couldn't help but think what it would've felt like if he had real, affectionate feelings for her. Up until the point that Oliver paid attention to her, Miley's only dreams were visions of her past, when she still had her mother and father. But now she also dreamt of how happy she could be with Oliver, and they gave her hope like nothing else before.

Now she'd never know how happy she could've really been.

- O -

Oliver shifted nervously in his seat. He knew he could do nothing except wait for the plane to land. But he was getting antsy nonetheless, worried about Miley. What if his dreams _were_ true, and Miley _was_ in a vortex of pain? What if he was too late?

Oliver closed his eyes, leaning his head back into the seat, attempting to relax.

He had to be optimistic. Perhaps nothing was wrong with Miley at all, and his dreams were only originating from stress and his brain (admittedly) constantly thinking about her. For the past while, he had been looking out for her, defending her from his father when he yelled at her at dinner, and when she knocked the vase over in the kitchen. And that _moment_, when they were so close to each other while he held her hand, gently bandaging it …

Oliver had never been so consumed by a girl before like this. He knew his reputation. He went through girls so quickly that he'd have forgotten their name in a few days. But Miley was different. She was innocent, and there was something heavenly about caring for someone so pure. She might be a servant in their household, but she brought out emotion in him, and he became such a sensitive person around her. And having felt this sentiment for just one girl, he knew it was better than the feeling of being a player that could get _any_ girl.

What would he say to her? He recycled his lines for all the girls at school, but Miley… he didn't even know how to approach her. He just confessed to a security guard that she was the most important person in his life, something that he didn't know until he said it himself. Yet when he said it, he felt _vindicated_, as if saying it out loud released his true inner self, leaving behind the guy he used to be. And declaring how he truly felt for Miley.

Muttering to himself, eyes closed, he tried to imagine seeing her face again. The plane continued west as it entered California state lines.

- M -

Miley, clean and tended by the best of Nancy's ability, with fresh, new clothes, entered her small "room", for the last time. She slipped her hand under the cot, and found the Polaroid of her mother and her younger self. It was her only personal memory that she was taking with her. She slipped it into her pocket and closed the door to the room.

- O -

The plane landed on the runway, and skidded to a halt. Oliver jumped out of his seat, and stood at the exit, thankfully in a seat near the front. The stewardess said some instructions over the intercom, and the other passengers all got up to get their luggage. When the door to the plane was opened, Oliver dashed out before the stewardess could even direct him out, and ran out into the terminal and outside, in search for a taxi. One pulled up immediately, and he ran in, yelling his house address to the driver.

- M -

Nancy handed Miley a suitcase, full of cash and items that she'd need. She briefly explained the use of each one. Miley listened intently; if she ever wanted to find her father, she needed to learn her way around the outside world, having been locked inside a house for so long.

- O -

As the driver navigated around the Los Angeles traffic, Oliver sat impatiently, but nervously. Miley wasn't far away…

- M -

Armed with the necessities that Nancy packed, Miley was ready to leave. Standing outside the house, she just stared at it, for it'd be her last moments here, where she spent almost her entire life…

- O -

Oliver's taxi turned into his neighborhood; he was only minutes away now… he hoped he wasn't too late.

* * *

_this chapter was the courtesy of MileyAddicted, AKA Drew! :) thank him for this update because I'm so lazy. lmao. I promise next chapter, I will bring you the most epic thing EVER. (hopefully). lol, review please! sorry for the lack of update. :D_


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